Not Just a Potter
by Albus Paulson
Summary: Harry is a descendant of numerous and extremely powerful families. Combined with his destiny, how will this play out?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Two men Apparated in silence to the corner of Privet Drive and Wisteria Walk.

One was tall and thin, dressed in a purple robe with silver embroidered stars glinting in the early morning light. His blue eyes twinkled madly behind half-moon eyeglasses. A pointed purple cap topped silvery-white hair and beard that reached his waist. He was humming Edvard Grieg's _Morning Song_ under his breath, and sucking on a lemon drop as he walked.

The other was slightly shorter than the first, but broader in the shoulder. A midnight blue Garibaldi hat crowned pure white hair that was cut short. Deep-set grey eyes seemed to burn beneath bushy brows. A Garibaldi beard graced his strong jaw, a wild moustache twitching beneath his Roman nose. His midnight blue robe swished with his every step, a beautifully carved cane in his left hand.

_Flashback_

_Nicholas Flamel stepped out of the Headmaster's Floo, brushing soot off his midnight-blue robes. _

"_Ah, Nicholas! You came!" Albus Dumbledore's excited voice came from behind his desk, littered with knick-knacks, paperwork, and lemon drops as it always was. "Sit down; sit down, so I can tell you what this is all about." He gestured to a large comfy armchair._

"_Thank you, Albus." Nicholas rumbled and he sat down. His tone gave no hint of amusement, but his eyes sparkled and twinkled, just as his friend the Headmaster's did. They had both perfected the art of sounding perfectly grave, only hinting at their sarcasm and irony with their facial expressions. _

"_I'm afraid I have both good news and bad. The bad news is that Lily and James Potter have been killed by Lord Voldemort," There was no amused twinkle in the Headmaster's face. He had been quite close to the Potters, and their son that he'd considered a grandson. "The strange thing is that Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse cast by Lord Voldemort, having the curse rebound and hit the caster. Lord Voldemort is probably not dead, but no longer has a body. The Dark forces are in disarray." The twinkle was back in full force._

"_I fail to see how this concerns me, Albus." Nicholas grumbled. He had also been close to the Potters, and was rather depressed to hear of their deaths. "What happens to Harry now?" he asked, concerned for the boy._

"_I plan to have him given to his next of kin, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, his mother's sister. I think that blood wards would be his strongest protection. And this is where you come in, if you would. I need help in setting up the blood wards, and I can think of no better help than the man who invented them." Albus steepled his fingers and gazed over them pointedly at his mentor and friend._

"_Of course I'll help. When do we leave?" Nicholas' grumble was gone, replaced by an excited but gravelly voice._

"_Right now, if you're free." Albus' eyes were gleaming like stars._

"_I am. Where are we going?" Gruff and to the point, as he always was, Nicholas wanted more information on the house and neighborhood, and lost little time in doing so._

"_The address is Number Four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, in Surrey." This came in a practiced flow, as if time had been spent memorizing it. Which, come to think of it, Albus probably had spent effort to commit the address to memory._

"_Been there already?" Nicholas arched a bushy eyebrow._

"_Yes, indeed, last night, when Hagrid, Minerva and I dropped Harry off." Albus' tone changed subtly. To the unpracticed ear, it wasn't noticeable, but to a man who had worked with him for a century, Albus' tone shift was a red flag._

"_I take it you didn't get a favorable first impression?" Nicholas' rumble was back. If Albus was worried, this was _definitely_a cause for concern. He sat back in the armchair, his arms gripping the wings uneasily. He frowned, the expression enhanced by his bushy eyebrows._

"_I did not. According to Minerva, who sat on a wall watching them all day yesterday, they are the 'worst sort of Muggles imaginable.'" Albus chewed his lip worriedly. "I wouldn't leave Harry with them if there was another person I could leave him with."_

"_Ach, Albus! If you don't feel comfortable with them, blood protection or no, why leave him with them?"_

"_Because his safety is my first priority - it's no use to him if he's happy, then is killed or driven to insanity."_

_Nicholas sighed. "You do have a point. All right, let's go then."_

_End Flashback_

The morning mist on Privet dive wreathed the two old men. Standing before Number Four, Privet Drive, and the wizards silently prepared themselves to set the complex blood wards that were meant to protect one Harry Potter.

"All right, Nicholas, let's get to it." Albus spoke in a falsely jovial voice, probably meant to lighten the mood.

It just made Nicholas scowl.

Nicholas pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and began to chant. "Dall'anima all'interno di questa casa, fatto con il sacrificio del genitore, dove le loro abitazioni di anima saranno disposte una protezione contro la malvagità …" he stopped when the rune he had been drawing in the air – thurisaz – turned bright red, and seemed to melt. "That's not supposed to happen." The red-colored air then drifted over to Nicholas' arm, turned gold, and wrapped around it like an armband. Nicholas gasped, conjured a chair for himself, and sat down rigidly as the air cleared and dispersed.

"Nicholas?" Albus said, worried. Nicholas looked shaken, as he has only looked once before, when he'd received news that his great-granddaughter had been eaten in a werewolf attack during Voldemort's rise…

"How…" Nicholas sounded dazed. His face, normally pale anyway, had taken on a dead man's pallor. His thoughts crossed his mind in miles per second."My spell failed, Albus, because Lily isn't related to Petunia. That's why the rune turned red."

"But…why'd it go around your arm?"

"Because I am related to Lily, according to my spell. And this spell doesn't lie. Remember my great-granddaughter, Albus, the one that supposedly died in a werewolf attack twenty years ago?"

"Lily Carina Flamel, yes, your son's son's daughter."

"She must have survived, and been found somewhere. We always thought she'd been eaten, but it seems she was adopted by William Evans and his wife. Petunia, their blood daughter, isn't related by blood to her 'sister.'"

"This means…"

"This means that Perenelle and I are going to have to raise Harry, our great-great-grandson."

Translation: By the blood within this house, made with a parent's sacrifice, where their blood dwells shall be placed a protection against evil.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2   
**November 2****nd**** 1981** Harry was taken from the Dursley household with the blessing of the Horse and the Hippo – uh, sorry, Petunia and Vernon Dursley. "Keep that freakish boy and the rest of you freaks away from our _normal_ family!" Vernon yelled, turning a shade of eggplant not normally seen in a healthy individual. Some of his breakfast, which had been stuck in his moustache that would've put a walrus to shame, ended up very close to Nicholas' face. Not liking the spittle in his face much, Nicholas tested out a new jinx on the extremely obese man. "Tuskem Walrusem!" he hollered, giving him a pair of walrus tusks to go with the bristly moustache. Vernon turned from eggplant to royal purple as he felt his canine teeth growing in length and diameter, forcing his mouth open and extending to about his breastbone until Albus removed them, apologizing profusely for his friend that really couldn't keep his temper, and not really meaning a word of it. "If that's normal, then I would hate to meet weird," growled Nicholas, not bothering until they were out of earshot, cradling a sleeping Harry against his chest. Albus snickered merrily, his blue eyes glimmering like stars. 

0 A stone manor, wreathed with sea-fog, stood on a cliff in Devon. The salty tang of the sea air sucked into Nicholas' lungs as he Apparated to his home with his great-great-grandson cradled in his arms. "Welcome, Harry, to the Hall-on-the-Sea, home of the Flamels." A very old woman stood in the archway leading to the old manor courtyard. Though she wasn't very tall, and actually quite short, she had an aura of power about her that more than made up for it. Her hair was pure white, just like Nicholas', but long, and pulled up into a bun. Stunning pale blue eyes gazed from her wrinkled and aged countenance. She wore a long, light blue azure robe, embroidered in bronze. A witch's hat, with a raven feather stuck in the wide brim, crested her head. A smile graced her thin lips as she saw her husband and great–great-grandson, now awake and squirming, approach on the garden path. "Perenelle!" Nicholas called to his wife, surprised to see her waiting for them. _Albus must have fire-called her, _the old alchemist thought, _there's no other way to get a message that fast._ "Nicholas! This is Harry?" her voice was a light jingle, the syllables seeming to dance upon the very air. Her French accent was barely noticeable, but it was enough to change the pronunciation of her words subtly. "Yes, this is Harry. Would you like to hold him?" Nicholas' gravelly tones were the bass line to her treble, a deep sound that seemed to roll as it came up from the ocean's depths. "Yes, I would. Give him here!" she swept down from the terrace, picking up the little fifteen - month old Harry. "Hello, Harry! I'm Granmama." "Granmama." The little boy repeated slowly, testing out the new word. Perenelle pointed to Nicholas. "That's Granddad. Can you say Hi, Granddad?" The old lady's eyes would have been mistaken for stars, winking and twinkling, on a dark evening. "Hi, Granddad!" Harry said, waving at Nicholas, a huge smile on his face, making his cheeks dimple. That grin must have been infectious, judging from the way it spread from Harry's face to the two adults'. _Good god, he is too cute for words. How he stays so happy, especially considering what happened night–before–last, is beyond my reckoning. _Nicholas reflected. "Well, you boys must be hungry. Let's go inside and have some lunch." Perenelle beamed, happy to see her 'grandson' so happy. "Yay, food!" Harry hollered, in high spirits at the thought of food and eating.   
Albus fire-called the Flamels that evening, after Harry had been put to bed. "Nicholas? I have something you should hear." "Yes, Albus?" the old alchemist knelt down before the hearth, bushy white eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown. "I believed, up until a few moments ago, that Sirius Black had been Secret-Keeper for the Potters. However, I, as the executor of the Potters' will, saw something that seemed out of place on that will: listed as the Secret-Keeper was not the name Sirius Black, as I expected, but the name Peter Pettigrew. That, as well as Sirius' testimony under Veritaserum, was enough to get him declared not guilty of treason, and thirteen counts of murder." "Get to the point, Albus; my knees are starting to hurt." Nicholas rumbled, his beard and moustache twitching in annoyance and twinges of pain. "Very well. Sirius, according to the Potters' will, is Harry's legal guardian." Silence resounded in the lounge room, the firelight dancing upon the stone walls, the firewood crackling in the hearth. "_What?" _Nicholas was floored. "He's my great-great-grandson!" "Yes, he is, but the guardian in the wills comes first, by Ministry law. He will revert to your care if, and only if, Sirius dies or is thrown into Azkaban." Albus sounded worried. Nicholas thought a moment on his knowledge of Wizarding law. "What if I made Sirius Black a Flamel by law and magic? That would make him related to me and Harry, and allow him to live with us at Hall-on-the-Sea. "We wouldn't have to take care of Harry, not that we don't want to, but it's really hard for two six-hundred-fifty-year-old people to care for a baby. "He could then adopt Harry with the Wizarding Ministry, making Harry Potter change into Harry Flamel Potter-Black, and Sirius Black be replaced with Sirius Black-Flamel. "The blood wards would recognize him as a Flamel, related to Harry's mother, so the blood protection would be extended to him! It's perfect!" Nicholas' voice rose to an excited and hoarse roar. "Ah, Nicholas, I'm right next to you, no need to shout." Albus said cheerfully, not sounding upset at all about being partially deafened. "But, I agree. Your idea is perfect. I'll set up a time for you to meet with Sirius. By the way, he really wants to see his godson, so bring Harry with you." Too excited to be dampened by much of anything, much less the chance to spend more time with Harry, Nicholas rapidly agreed. Albus left the Floo, and Nicholas left to talk with Perenelle about this new development.   



	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sirius strode down the long, winding, dark hallway that led to a not-often-used Ministry conference room. Wringing his hands anxiously as he ambled over the rough stone floor, Sirius Valentine Black felt he was in for a bumpy ride.

And he was right, in more ways then one, and more ways than he thought of…

_Knock… Knock… Knock…_

A rapping on the heavy wooden door drew both Nicholas' and Harry's attention, distracting them from stray floating purple bubbles Nicholas had conjured to occupy Harry. "Come in," Nicholas called gruffly.

The door swung open, revealing a tall young man, dressed in a plain dark red robe and a worn black traveling cloak, his short black hair clean but slightly scruffy. He stood in the doorway, shifting his weight nervously from left to right, his silver-grey eyes sparing only a passing glance at the seated alchemist before they caught sight of the little boy Nicholas was holding.

"Pa-foot!" Harry yelled happily, attempting to squirm off of Nicholas' lap.

The young man brightened visibly. "Harry!" he called, and knelt onto the floor, arms open in a gesture of welcome. Nicholas released his hold on Harry, allowing the little boy to clamber off his lap. Harry ran to the man in the doorway, hitting his chest and hugging him like there would be no tomorrow. "Good to see you too, Pronglet." The man enveloped his arms around the lad, cuddling him. "The first time I ever saw you, you stole my heart, little one," he murmured into Harry's hair, "I loved you then, and I love you now. And I will always love you, my baby, my puppy, my little one…"

Nicholas stood up and cleared his throat, disrupting the adorable scene before him. "Sirius Black, I presume?"

The young man looked up, and stared into Nicholas' eyes. "Aye, that's me. You're Nicholas Flamel, great-great-grandfather of my godson, right?" At Nicholas' stiff nod he continued. "Professor Dumbledore didn't tell me much about you, and your relationship to Harry. And anyway, I'd like to hear it straight from your mouth, if you would tell me."

Nicholas sighed and sat down again, relaxing into the padded back of his armchair. "It's a long story," he said. "You may want to sit down." He gestured to a second large, cushiony easy chair. Sirius did so, and leaned back, allowing Harry to scramble on to his lap.

"Perenelle and I decided in the mid-1860's that we still had much to offer a child, even at our advanced ages. So we used our skills as mages and alchemists to create a mindless clone of Perenelle to bear the child. It took nearly four years, but we succeeded.

"Edward Byron Flamel was born on 30 May 1869. He grew up strong and happy, and went to Hogwarts in due time. He was a Ravenclaw, and was Head Boy in 1887-8. He married in 1900 to a young woman named Victoria Moody.

"On 21 June 1901, our grandson Gawain Merle Flamel was born into the world. He was a loyal Hufflepuff, and a Prefect, but not Head Boy material. He married Lavender Paulson in 1928.

"Their son, our great-grandson, Henry Edward Flamel was born on 9 August 1929. He was a true Gryffindor, brave-hearted and loyal, but that didn't stop him from getting into mischief left and right. He fell in love with Sage MacArthur, and married her during Christmastime 1958.

"On 21 March 1960, Lily Carina Flamel was born.

"Two weeks later, Albus fire-called us with awful news. Edward and Victoria, who had been on vacation, had been found murdered; they had been killed with Avada Kedavra, probably by a then mostly-unknown Tom Riddle. Gawain and Lavender had been killed the same way, most likely by the early Death Eaters. Henry and Sage were found – or bits of them, anyway. They had been murdered by werewolves during the full moon the night before. We assumed that Lily had been carried away or completely eaten by the fiends.

"I know now that Doctor William Evans had found her, and that he and his wife Rose adopted the little girl. Since she had been found in a bundle of Easter lily flowers in a closet, they named her Lily.

"She grew up, and in time went to Hogwarts. You know the rest, Sirius. She married the man you considered a brother, and had Harry James Flamel Potter."

"_Flamel_-Potter?" Sirius asked, a questioning look on his rather pale face.

"Soon to be Flamel-Potter-Black." Nicholas smiled smugly at Sirius' gaping features. He continued, "And you, my friend, as surrogate and adoptive father of my great-great-grandson, I will adopt you into the House of Flamel, if you will accept it."

"Of course I'll accept it," Sirius said incredulously. "I hate my blood family, except for Cousin Andy and her daughter Dora. So that makes me Sirius Valentine Black-Flamel?"

"Ach, that it does, my boy." Nicholas said, smiling paternally Sirius. "You get to live in Hall-on-the-Sea in Devon with Perenelle and I, and Harry, too. You can have the room next to Harry's." Nicholas looked Sirius up and down. "I've a question for you, Sirius. Why did Harry call you 'Pa-foot?'"

Sirius sighed, and gently prodded Harry to lift the squirmy boy out of his lap. He stood, and transformed. A gigantic black dog stood in his place. Harry squealed in delight, and hugged the dog's neck, poking and nudging the canine in play. The dog reared onto his hind legs and changed back into robed human. "Padfoot's my nickname," Sirius said. "I've been an Animagus since I was fifteen."

"You're not registered?" Nicholas said, raising a questioning bushy white eyebrow.

"No, I'm not." He looked at Nicholas. "Yet _another_ thing to do with the Ministry today, if I've the time."

"We've got all day, Sirius. Shall we be off?" Nicholas stood, smiled at Sirius, and strode out the door and into the hall.

Sirius grinned mischievously and picked up his godson, giving Harry a ride on his shoulders. Harry giggled and called "Giddy-up, Pa'foot!"

Sirius laughed for the first time since he had found James and Lily dead…

He shuddered involuntarily. _Best to stay away from that train of thought, Sirius old boy. Think about the look on Williamson's face when you show them you're an Animagus. _He beamed at that thought.

And with that, he hurried after the retreating form of Nicholas Flamel.

Part of this dialogue is taken from **Living with Danger** by _whydoyouneedtoknow_.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sirius awoke slowly the next morning.

He was slightly confused when he didn't recognize the smell of the air around him. _This is _definitely_ not my flat. That place on Vertic Alley smells of dust, mice, and mold. This smells like salt, and fog, and… spices? It smells like Christmas cookies, like the ones Lily used to make. Cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice, the stuff that tickles your nose when you walk into the kitchen… But it's the wrong time, it's not Christmas, it's the fourth of November…_

_So what on earth is going on here?_

So Sirius opened his eyes, and was baffled by what he saw.

Floating above him on a twilight-colored background were silver symbols, spiky and angular. They seemed to be in the place of stars on the sky behind them…

_Runes, _he realized._ They're runes, but I don't know what they mean! I was stupid enough to take the easy way out, to do Divination instead of being smart like Moony and taking Runes and Arithmancy…_

He grasped that he was lying on a soft, padded thing, a bed of some sort...

And he had a small, warm weight curled up next to him.

_There,_ he thought sleepily. _That's where the spice smell is coming from. Clover honey and lemon zest, chocolate powder and allspice…_

Sirius moved his head slightly to see whatever warm thing that was nestled into the crook of his arm.

Harry lay, dozing, his hair sticking up all over the place, curled up into a ball like a resting puppy. _He's so cute…_

That phrase released the memories sleep had blocked from his conscious mind.

_Seeing Lily and James, dead by Voldemort's hand, and Harry, cute baby Harry, curled up into a ball and whimpering…_

_Finding Wormtail, evil little traitorous sod, and attempting to get revenge for his fallen Pack-mates when Peter blew up the street behind him, and seeing it killing a street full of innocents, full of Muggles, men, women, and children…_

_Going to Azkaban, awaiting his trial, finally falling into the mercy that was sleep when the Dementors got too close…_

_Returning to the Ministry, given Veritaserum, and telling the persecutors, uh, prosecutors, exactly who had been Secret-Keeper for the Potters, and who they thought was dead and wasn't…_

_Finding out that there was another party in the mix, a very powerful old couple, who turned out to be related to Lily…_

_Meeting the imposing figure of Nicholas Flamel, alchemist extraordinaire, wizard and mage the like of which hadn't been seen in centuries, and being told that he was offering Sirius kin that didn't hate him on principle…_

_Going down to the Registrations office in the Ministry and seeing the stupid pureblood bureaucrat Williamson gape and nearly have a heart attack at seeing the Grim-thing before him…_

_Coming to Hall-on-the-Sea, Devon, home of the Flamels, and now his home…_

_Being introduced to Perenelle Flamel, who got really annoyed at Sirius' attempt at chivalry and calling her 'milady', and who finally got mad enough to give Sirius flashing neon purple hair that took him an hour to remove…_

_Being told to call Nicholas and Perenelle Granddad and Granmama, just as Harry did…_

_Falling asleep, curled up on the pallet next to his slumbering godson… _

He was forcibly removed from his thoughts and swirling memories by Harry waking up and poking Sirius in the arm. "Pa-foot, wake up!" he giggled, and then jumped off the bed, and tottered out the door.

_Gone to wake up and prank Granddad and Granmama, no doubt in the world…_

Sure enough, a few minutes later a muffled woman's screech came down the hall way. "Aaigh! Harry, what on earth was that for?!"

That was followed by the sleepy growl of "When I catch you, Harry James Flamel-Potter-Black, you'll regret that you messed with Nicholas Achille Flamel!"

Harry ran back into his bedroom – for his bedroom, it was – sniggering like crazy.

"_What_ did you do?" Sirius asked mildly, attempting to act the part of stern godfather, and failed miserably.

Harry grinned. "I jumped on Granmama and Granddad's bed wif dem still in it." He was giggling by the end of his pronouncement.

Sirius lost his composure – what little he had, by that point – and started laughing his head off, his eyes streaming in his mirth.

Nicholas stumbled into the room, black nightgown wrinkled, bleary eyes searching menacingly for the little toddler who had the audacity to wake him up so early. His messy white hair was tinted pink and purple with the sunrise, which just beginning to show through the windows.

Harry whispered "Eeep!" and dived under the sheets behind Sirius.

Sirius twisted around and attempted –futilely- to glare at his godson. "Why are you hiding behind me? I'll be no help in shielding you from the consequences of pranks pulled."

Harry glowered at his still sniggering godfather.

"Where is he?" Nicholas growled. His blurry grey eyes were nearly buried under his bushy eyebrows, his scowling face causing his untamed moustache to obscure his mouth, which undoubtedly was pressed into a thin line.

"Where is who?" Sirius asked innocently, attempting to force his broadly grinning face into a more guiltless one.

He failed. Dismally, miserably, wretchedly, pitifully, piteously…

"You know who, and exactly who, Sirius Valentine Black-Flamel! Your godson leaped onto my bed at FIVE IN THE MORNING to wake me for no good reason!" Nicholas' face was turning a spectacular shade of burgundy.

Harry said "Eeep!" again, very quietly. Nicholas was quite scary when he was weary and irritated.

However, it was enough to clue in the not – quite - deaf Nicholas.

"SO!" he thundered. He strode over to Harry's hiding spot and glared at the little boy. "Why, in Merlin's name, in Circe's name, in Morgan le Fay's name, did you wake up your Granmama and me?"

"To p'way wif you, Granddad." Harry said, making his face look as adorable as it could, which was very adorable indeed.

It seemed to melt Nicholas' heart. His face was a substantially better color when he answered softly, "Please don't do it again this early. Now," he clapped his hands together and smiled, "let's go get some breakfast from Fuzzy, shall we?"

Both Sirius and Harry looked ecstatic at the thought of food.

As they were walking down the hall, Nicholas said, "Sirius, why did you let Harry hide behind you?"

Sirius sighed. "According to the Hypocrisy Agreement all the Marauders signed – that's Remus, Peter, James, and I – we can't incriminate a fellow prankster. We don't have any wiggle room, with all the pranks we pulled in our Hogwarts days."

Nicholas smiled. "Nice to see you young ones have a sense or honor these days – well, most of you, anyway."

"That's ri- Hey! Are you implying I have no honor?"

And they bickered all the way to the kitchens.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was a bright sunny day in Diagon Alley. The sounds of vendors hawking their wares to passerby, owls screeching and hooting, and buyers of potions ingredients bickering over the prices filled the midmorning air.

It was just another regular day in August of 1983. It was just another day, just another blip on the tapestry of time to most of the people in the world, to most of the people in this marketplace.

It was just another day in the life of one Harry Potter-Black.

The little boy in question was currently hitching a ride on the shoulders of Remus Lupin, his hair blond under a glamour charm to disguise him from his _adoring_ public.

"Fasser, Moony!" Harry hollered, oblivious to Nicholas Flamel's coughing and Sirius Black-Flamel's smothered chuckles. "Fasser!"

"Harry, I can't go any faster." Remus said serenely. "I'd bump into some of these poor morons," he elbowed Sirius, "and then where would they be? Sprawled out in the street, whatever dignity they had as muddy as their robes."

Harry snickered, a smirk plastered on his features. Nicholas' face was turning red from lack of oxygen; apparently, he didn't trust himself to open his mouth, even to breathe, without laughing wildly. Sirius looked like his pride had been mauled by a rabid Jarvey.

The huge marble building of Gringotts Wizard Bank loomed over those in Diagon Alley. Harry, now holding Nicholas' hand, asked in awe, "Is that Grin'gots?"

"Yes, Harry, that's Gringotts," Nicholas said, "a place where not even the darkest of wizards are foolish enough to try to steal something. Dragons and sphinxes guard some of the vaults, and goblin-magic lives in the very stone." Nicholas pointed to a large sign, magically made so that it would appear to the one looking in a language they could understand. Nicholas read it to Harry:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

"Of what awaits the sin of greed,

"For those who take, but do not earn,

"Must pay most dearly in their turn.

"So if you seek beneath our floors

"A treasure that was never yours,

"Thief, you have been warned, beware

"Of finding more than treasure there."

"Wow." Harry said, admiration and awe in his voice and written upon his face. He waved at the sentinels at their posts outside the great doors, and smiled at the short stern-looking beings.

0

One of the guards, a lieutenant Jari, got a good look at Harry's aura. _I've never seen someone so powerful, and I've seen Albus Dumbledore release his power into view more that once… Can it be?_

"Call Lord Vindalf," he said to Dvalin, one of the guards, in Gobbledygook. "We have history in the making. The son of the Mages has returned."

0

Nicholas entered the grand entrance hall, Harry holding his hand. Harry tugged at his granddad's robe urgently. "What is it, Harry?" Nicholas said, confused.

Harry nodded to their left. Goblins, two armored and one not, were walking towards them. The armored ones were in the gold and blue livery of the Gringotts Guard. The unarmored goblin was a little taller than the ones around him, and had a long white beard…

Nicholas gasped. _That's director Vindalf, lord of Gringotts! What does he want with us? _He glanced again at the object of the goblins' attention, which had slipped behind Nicholas' robes. _What does he want with Harry?_

"Greetings, O son of the banker's clan," Nicholas said in Gobbledygook, bowing low as he said it. "May your day be profitable."

Vindalf looked taken aback for a split second, and then bowed his head back at Nicholas and replied, "Greetings, Alchemist Flamel, may your day be profitable."

He turned to Harry, who had come out from behind Nicholas' body. "Greetings, O son of the Mages, may your life be long and fruitful." He said in English, bowing very low, making his beard touch the marble floor of the Entrance Hall.

The guards bowed along with Vindalf. "Hail."

Harry goggled at them a moment. Then, he seemed to make up his mind. He fully stepped out from behind Nicholas and seemed to grow in height. "Greetings, Lord Vindalf, son of Thorin. May your life be long and fruitful." He bowed, not seeming to be a three-year-old, but a Lord in his power, secure in his own strength.

All those present, goblin and human alike, were gobsmacked, though the goblins seemed to be managing a little better.

When he had recovered, Nicholas asked Vindalf, "What did you mean by calling Harry a son of the Mages?"

Vindalf raised his luxuriant gray eyebrows. "You mean to say that you have no idea of Mr. Potter-Black's ancestors, great witch and wizards that they are, and so renowned in both the Wizarding and Goblin realms alike?"

"I take it that you do not mean the Flamels, Potters and Blacks?"

"No, I do not. Please, come to my office for some tea …and information…" Vindalf turned and strode toward his office, guards and bewildered humans following him.

0

A few cups of tea and some scones later, Vindalf leaned back into his chair, putting his long, knotty fingers together. "Tyr, my personal assistant, brought a file to my attention four years ago, upon the marriage of one called Lily Evans. She, as all married witches and wizards do, had given a blood sample to prove that she was truly Lily Evans, and not some imposter. Most humans never again hear of that again, and they never need to. But hers was a special case." He reached onto his desk and pulled out a large file, and handed it to Sirius. "I see that you are aware of her Flamel heritage," he gestured respectfully at Nicholas, "but you may want to take a closer look at her mother's father, and her father's mother."

Sirius opened the file and pulled out the family tree made with Lily's blood magic. He glanced at it, gasped, and handed it to Remus, numb in shock.

Remus looked intently at the family tree. His jaw dropped. "N-Nicholas… y-you really n-need to s-see this." Remus' shaking hand delivered the parchment to Nicholas' lap.

Nicholas gazed at Remus and Sirius. _Those two are nearly unflappable. What could it possibly be?_

His eyes found Sage MacArthur's family. Her grandfather's name caught his eye.

_Lord Bram MacArthur-Merlinus_.

He gaped a moment, then searched for Lavender Paulson's name. He found it – and her mother's name.

_Lady Augusta Paulson-Ravenclaw._

_Harry is heir to Ravenclaw and Merlin._

Nicholas looked up at Vindalf, who had the air of one not yet done with his line of thought.

"James Potter is not only a Potter heir, but a Black heir, through his mother," he looked at expectant faces. "And heir of Gryffindor through his father's family."

Sirius smiled weakly. "So that makes Harry James Merlinus-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Flamel-Potter-Black?"

Vindalf grinned toothily. "Yes, it does."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A goblin named Thror was escorting the still shaken and dazed Nicholas, Sirius, and Remus, and a slightly confused and puzzled Harry.

_They never look at me like that, not even when I pull a prank, like when I turned Moony and Padfoot purple polka dotted. _Harry thought, noticing the adults' wary and awed fleeting looks in his direction. _And I haven't pulled a prank in a while. Maybe I should put that itching powder in Granmama and Granddad's bed? Yeah, that sounds good. That sound real good. But how to pull it off? How can I pull it off without getting caught…_

Harry drifted off into his happy thoughts of pranking his family, barely noticing when Sirius lifted him in to the mine cart. He noticed, though, when Thror put the cart on full throttle.

_Oh well, I'll think on it later, when I have more time. This is amazing!_

"Is it over already?" he moaned, when Thror had brought the cart to a stop. "That was awesome, even better than Quidditch!"

Thror looked a little taken aback. "That's the first time we've ever had a non-goblin complement the mine cart service." Then he smiled, showing every single last pointy tooth. "Perhaps we were just waiting for the right customer. In any case, Mr. Potter, you just won me quite a few galleons in bet money."

"How much is quite a few?"

"I believe it is four million, to be exact, Mr. Potter, is what I won. I think a few bottles of Goblin Firewhisky went with it, but…"

Nicholas cleared his throat firmly, drawing Thror's attention away from his musings of newfound wealth.

Thror scowled at him. "Yes, yes, Lord Flamel, the Potter vault." He walked up to the huge brass door and brushed his finger down the side of one of the intricately decorated panels. The door shuddered, and creaked loudly as it opened bit by bit.

Harry was suddenly blinded by the bright glow of golden galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. He staggered back a little, leaning slightly on the comforting presence of Remus' legs. When his eyes had adjusted to the glinting of light off the metal, he was still a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of gold in the huge vault.

Gems of all sorts and sizes were scattered among the coins. Nicholas could see diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, peridots, pearls, aquamarines, feldspars, garnets, jades, lapis lazuli, opals, nacres, topazes, turquoises, ambers, and many different types of quartz.

"Who enters the Vault of House Potter?" a deep voice called from within the cavernous vault.

Sirius and Remus gasped as they recognized the voice, the voice of a man they had known to be dead for the last five years…

Harry began to grow in majesty again, as he had in the Entrance Hall. "I, Lord Harry James Merlinus-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Flamel-Potter-Black, son of James and Lily, enter the Vault of my ancestors, which is mine by blood, mine by magic, and mine by right."

"I, Lord Charles Tiberius Potter, son of William and Rosemary, give to you the ownership of the Vault of House Potter, which is mine by blood, mine by magic, and mine by right. It is now yours by blood," a glow of bronze light surrounded Harry, "Yours by magic," a second radiance, this one of silver, enveloped him, "And yours by right. May Merlin smile upon you." A third light encircled Harry, golden and sparkling.

The lights faded, and Harry went back to being the prank-happy, but otherwise quite mature three-year old he always was. He looked up at the bemused adults rather smugly, as if begging them to ask the question on their minds.

So Sirius did. "Harry, what in all the nine levels was that?!"

The voice shouted again. "I think I can answer that question better than my grandson can, Sirius."

"Mr. Potter!" Sirius and Remus yelled at the same time, and ran into the vault, with Nicholas and Harry trialing along behind them. They saw a portrait hanging upon the granite wall.

The man depicted in the oil painting was seated upon a dark wooden chair, dressed in long black robes. Black hair, just as messy as Harry's – and James' – capped his head, his coffee colored eyes shining from beneath rough black brows, and behind silver-rimmed glasses. He smiled a soft, honest smile. "Boys, how many times did I ask you to call me Charles?"

"Too many times to count." Sirius said, smirking.

"To answer your question, Sirius, I think that because Harry is the head of so many powerfully magical families, and while so young, his magic is aging to cope with the many gifts that comes with that. He won't look changed physically, but he may occasionally show his Mage status, meaning that he speaks in the correct form, no matter how young or uncomfortable he is. It's not something that anyone can control, so don't try to do so." Charles touched his white haired temple with one craggy and wrinkled hand. "Now, I think that Harry should go into that corner..." he gestured with his free hand to a part of the vault "... and find a certain breastplate."

Harry walked over to the corner that Charles had indicated. As he strode over there, a large metallic thing caught his eye. He walked over and took a closer look. The thing was a piece of shining silvery-white plate armor. He picked up the big piece of metal – which was surprisingly light – and walked back over to his grandfather's portrait.

"Aha! Aye, that's it, lad. That armor was made by the Goblin Nation for Wolfram Potter, the first Potter, back in the Middle Ages. It's made of a blend of mercury, silver, and iron that is nearly impossible to produce. It's lighter than most other metals, and harder than dragon hide..." he trailed off for a moment.

A gasp went up from Remus, Sirius, and Nicholas as the large breastplate shrunk, becoming small enough to fit Harry. "I was waiting to see if it would do that." Charles continued. "It resizes itself to fit warriors of the Light that are worthy to be protected by it.

"And now, I suggest you go and find out about the other families Harry is head of. You could spend all day in this vault, but really, do you want to stay in here all day and miss out on seeing the other vaults?" Seeing the mass shaking of heads he grinned. "I thought not. Get along now, you've a lot ahead of you!"

And with that they left the Potter Vault, the brass door creaking shut before closing with a clang.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Harry spoke in a whisper to Thror the goblin as they entered the mine cart. "Does this go any faster?"

Thror beamed evilly, showing off his sharp teeth. "Aye, it does, but most weak-stomached humans can't take it, so we just go with the lowest speed that still makes their expressions twist hysterically."

Harry returned the classic malevolent prankster's grin. His pranking ideas had suddenly swelled, pushing his idea of putting itching powder in Granmama and Granddad's bed aside. "Let's go with a few speeds faster, just to see if they notice."

"All right then, young Mage Lord. It's good to see you have a sense of humor that we, the goblin nation, can relate to. It will pave the way for very good political relationships in the future."

Harry looked confused for just a second, as half the goblin's words didn't make sense to his three-year-old brain. Then, he went back to smirking. _The adults won't know what hit 'em. _He thought smugly.

Then, Thror pushed the mine cart a few speeds faster.

All three adults (and one shrunken portrait) were screaming blue bloody murder in terror as the cart sped along at something like eighty miles per hour, turning tight corners with ease in the goblin tunnels beneath Diagon Alley.

Harry was screeching in sheer delight. _If the folks at Quality Quidditch Supplies ever get something like this, I want it A.S.A.P.! Maybe they'd call it something like the Firebolt, streaking across the sky at the speed of lightning, and burning up all the competition!_

When the ride finally came to a stop, the adults breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry was catching his breath. "Weenies!" he told the adults.

Remus scowled at him. "Harry, I think you fall into the category of 'adrenaline junkie.' The scarier and terrifying the stunt, the more you like to do it."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yep, that's me, Moony."

Remus turned to Sirius and Nicholas. "Remind me to never introduce him to bungee jumping. I think he'll end up bouncing off Gryffindor Tower."

Nicholas paled at the thought of seeing his grandson jump off a tall thing and bounce back.

Sirius smirked, grey eyes glinting in the torchlight. "Imagine what it would do to McGonagall."

The other two adults groaned in unison. Professor Minerva McGonagall would probably send a Howler to Nicholas, yelling at him and telling him just _what_ she found his grandson doing off the walls of her beloved tower and scarring her – and the rest or her lion cubs - for life.

"What about hang gliding?" Thror said, smirking.

Remus went pale. He'd always been afraid of heights, especially after that incident in the Shrieking Shack when Padfoot and Prongs had pushed him off the banister and down three flights of stairs. He came up unhurt, but he gave the two wannabe pranksters a run they'd not soon forget.

Thror cleared his throat. "The Flamel Vault, Lord Flamel."

"Yes, yes, of course, Thror." Nicholas said in his rumble. Nicholas pulled out a small, intricate silver key that was hanging upon a chain around his neck, and placed it in the key slot etched upon the huge shiny grey gateway. He muttered the entrance password under his breath. "Ich bin ein Sohn des Fabers, Nicholas Achille Flamel. Im Leben oder im Tod bin ich frei, Motto der Familie, ich habe angenommen als Mein."1

The door clanged. A glow surrounded both the door and Nicholas, then receded as the door opened, not a creak to be heard.

Books and scrolls lined the wall's surfaces on shelves that went from marble floor to high ceiling. Vast amounts of knowledge, hidden for centuries, were contained in these massive leather-bound volumes.

A stack of gold galleons, and a pile of silver sickles, and a heap of bronze knuts, were neatly piled in one corner. It was a respectable amount, but the Flamels weren't billionaires by any stretch of the imagination.

But in one corner, a large silver-colored shield leaned up against a shelf full of papyrus scrolls. It was etched with _thursaz_, _wunjo_, _tiwaz_, and _othalan_, which, when written together like that, meant 'protector of glory in the wars of inheritance.'

Nicholas pointed to the shield. "That shield was made in the time of my great-great-grandfather, Karl von Faber. Karl was the second son of the Muggle Duke Arnulf von Faber. His elder brother, Joachim, was his favored son, and his heir. Karl was a tad put out at that.

"When Arnulf fell ill, Joachim decided that Karl was a threat to his ascension to power, so he tried to have Karl assassinated. When the first assassin disappeared without a trace the day after Karl was supposed to be knifed in the back, Joachim grew suspicious, and was outraged when Karl showed up to dinner without a mark on him. Karl appeared to be happily ignorant of the whole plot, though he did send Joachim a few vile looks.

"Then the second assassin vanished, and the third, and the fourth. Joachim decided to murder his brother himself, to commit fratricide. When he entered Karl's rooms, however, he found a strange sight.

"Karl was sitting cross-legged upon his bed, deep in meditation. A look crossed his brother's face, and Joachim's belly was turned to frozen lead in fear. It was a look of utmost revulsion, and it was enough to set the coward to flight.

"But Joachim was not yet done. He whispered honey-coated lies into his father's ears, and when Arnulf recovered he was angry enough with the falsified accounts of Karl's crimes to order Karl executed.

"Karl went surprisingly quietly to the headsman's axe.

"On the day of his execution, Karl was very quiet. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be muttering bad Latin under his breath, which annoyed his jailers to no end. When he was led to the platform, though, he suddenly stopped and refused to kneel.

"He said, 'I bow to no one. In life or death I am free!' and opened his eyes. His grey eyes were blazing with a flame few can match. He tore the ropes from his wrists, and raised his arms in a gesture to call down lightning from the heavens. The sunny sky suddenly darkened with clouds, the warm day turned frigid.

"A ring of electricity crackled about Karl's head as he accessed his magic, for yes, Karl was a Muggle-born wizard. This shield took form as he turned the daggers he had taken from his would-be assassins, and the chains his father and brother had bound his neck and feet with, into a sheet of enchanted iron, that he formed into this shield. He had to run away from the now murderous townsfolk, taking the shield with him, but took refuge in the Jewish quarter of his father's city, and escaped the town under cover of twilight.

"He changed his name to Flamel, in honor of his skills as a metalworker, and he used his magic only rarely after that.

"Now, Harry." Nicholas turned to his great-great-grandson. Harry's emerald-green eyes locked with his grey. "I give this shield to you; so that when the time comes not even an army can stand against you."

Harry nodded solemnly. Sirius shrunk the shield, and the group left the Flamel Vault.

1 Translation: I am a son of the Smiths, Nicholas Achille Flamel. In Life or Death I am Free, motto of the Family, I have adopted as my own.

Sorry, it's a really bad online translation. If and when I ever get this published, I'll have to fix it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Ravenclaw vault was guarded by a colossal bronze door. Cornflower blue enameling laced through the polished metal in a vine pattern. Small garnet clematis flowers were scattered among the design.

A brown opal eagle sat upon a green malachite and bistre jasper fir. A patch of lime tourmaline meadow included wildflowers in light green amazonite and red carnelian, light blue chalcedony and pink coral, green gaspeite and azure larimar, violet opalite and rose quartz, plum sugillite and sea green variscite.

Five sets of eyes were stared expectantly at Harry, Portrait-Charles' brown, Remus' blue, Thror's amber, and Nicholas' and Sirius' grey.

"What?" he said, somewhat indignantly. He hated being stared at, especially since he really hadn't done anything but stand there since they had gotten out of the mine cart…

"They are waiting for you to open the door," the eagle said quietly, shifting the orange garnets that made up its beak.

"What must I do?" Harry whispered to the mosaic of semiprecious stones, animated by magic of an ancient witch and the enchantment of the Goblins.

The eagle's piercing sapphire eyes gazed into Harry's green. Harry stiffened as it seemed to take measure of him and his character, his morality. Then, its gaze softened.

"You have done well, young one. You are stronger than you appear, and will prove your mettle long before the end and before anyone around you expects it," it whispered, so softly that only Harry could hear.

Then, their eyes locked again, and Harry suddenly knew how to open the vault, as though a fleeting memory, long forgotten, had shown a path that had overgrown with weeds from disuse. He could never put his finger on it, not even years afterward.

Harry marched up to the door and tapped various flowers in a specific pattern. First that lone carnelian poppy, then an amber marigold in a cluster of three, then a certain larimar cornflower, fourth of ten from the left, followed by an opalite forking larkspur, third from the flowerbed, next came one of the coral sweet williams, the one that was paler than the others.

Then, a crack appeared in the seemingly solid slab of bronze, right down the middle, dividing the meadow, but not the tree, and the gates swung outward.

The catacomb was bigger than both the Potter and Flamel vaults combined. An arched marble cathedral ceiling was held up by five huge pillars, white marble that seemed to have streaks of black and charcoal gray stone. A pile of galleons, sickles, and knuts was scattered loosely in a corner, as though wealth was unimportant to the ones who had placed it there.

But, resting upon the mound of golden coins was an enormous moonstone, a grayish treasure with a silvery sheen. The Calon am y Mynydd, The Heart of the Mountain, it had once been called long ago, but now it was just the Brith Caregan, the Silver Stone.

Shaped so that any one tiny, flickering, light would become many in its countless facets, the moonstone was famed to have been lost long ago, to brigands in the Snowdon, the Welsh mountains in the north of that old country.

It had been found and wrought by the reclusive Dwarves in Merlin's time. The Dwarves of Snowdonia were famed for their craft, and their work upon the flawless moonstone that came to be called the Brith Caregan was their crowning glory, their masterpiece, their tour de force. When that Dwarvish kingdom had been annihilated in a war between the Wizards and Goblins that extended into the Dwarvish tunnels, robbers were believed to have taken it as part of their plunder, and it had been lost through the centuries. But, apparently, a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw had either found the Brith Caregan or had spent a good part of the family gold to obtain the shining stone.

Curiosity overcame caution as Harry stepped into the vault. His footsteps echoed in the vast space, the acoustics preventing much silence. His eyes drifted over the immense leather-bound books, neatly stacked upon a wooden desk next to the pile of Wizard currency. They stopped – and stared upon - the Brith Caregan.

Harry had never seen anything so beautiful. Of course, he'd never seen the Hogwarts Great Hall on a clear, starry winter night, but that's beyond the point. The red glass lamps set in the vault's walls flickered and shimmered, sending light into the refracted stone.

The Brith Caregan, tinted to a rose color with the red light provided by the magical lamps, glowed with an unearthly light as Harry approached. It hummed and pulsated, sending beams of luminosity into the darkened vault.

Harry reached out and picked up the Brith Caregan, as if drawn by a force he could not control, a force that was light magic but was still in the shades of grey that marked most extremely powerful 'light' spells. He stared into its smoky white depths, lost in the intricacies of the flawless stone…

"Harry!" Nicholas yelled to his grandson. He gasped when he saw the famed Brith Caregan in Harry's grasp. _That stone's been lost for centuries! How in all of Dante's nine levels of Living Bloody Hell in a Hand basket did it come to be here?! _"Brith Caregan!" he said, his voice low and hoarse in shock.

"What?" Sirius, Charles and Remus said at the same time. Mirror expressions danced upon their faces – confusion and shock at both Nicholas' and Harry's behaviors.

"The Brith Caregan is a large white moonstone, shaped by the Dwarves of Snowdonia, who all perished centuries before I was born. It was used for healing and Divination, mostly scrying for enemies. Only the purest and most powerful of wizards can handle the Silver Stone, much less use it."

Harry seemed to snap out of his trance, and put the Brith Caregan in the large trunk that contained Wolfram Potter's breastplate, Karl von Faber aka Karl Flamel's shield, and a large amount of gold. Sirius was carrying a shrunk Portrait-Charles Potter.

They left the Ravenclaw Vault, which despite the kindly nature of the founder of the line, was a very eerie place to be, in most people's opinions, or at least the opinions of the ones who had seen it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A glorious enameled tawny Barbary lion, mane of flaxen fur covering his head, neck and most of his underbelly, its amber-stone eyes staring into the distance, as though looking for a long-lost friend, and placed upon the magnificent gold-plated door of the family vault of Godric Gryffindor.

Harry's eyes only glanced at the golden door eyes finally falling upon the lion Sejant and Gardant.1

_**Greetings, young heir; may long life be your gift. Finally, a strong successor to the line of the blood!**_

_Did that lion just speak to me in my head? _Harry thought confusedly.

0

Of what happened next, no two stories were ever precisely the same, though the gist of it they all agreed on. Harry's emerald green eyes locked with the lion's amber orbs, and it seemed to those watching - three living humans, a portrait, and a goblin – that the two spoke together.

No one was prepared to have life come from something that was supposed to be enchanted stone…

0

Harry looked the lion straight in the eyes. He got a feeling, like he did at the Ravenclaw vault, that the great cat was appraising him, gazing into his soul to find even the hint of an evil tendency, any flaw that could be expanded to create great evil.

Voldemort's flaws were not limited to his arrogance, and his inability to feel the pain of others; his blackened soul had been marred too greatly by the dark magic he had explored in his youth, and it had maimed his very being.

Albus Dumbledore's biggest flaw was his egotism when it came to his decisions – which a correct decision made _now,_ meant that it would remain a correct decision.

Harry had none of that.

Harry's pure white appearance to the Mage's Sight was testament to his purity. Only his ancestor Merlin could have rivaled him in terms of Lightness.

Very few wizards were ever firmly anchored on either side of the magic's coin, light or dark magic, but Harry was one of them, being secured to the side of the Light. Voldemort was the only other living anchored wizard, and do we really need to guess which side he was on?

Harry's aura shone with a power far greater then Professor Dumbledore's, even in his youth. But, the Professor's aura had been honed by age and time, and Harry's had not, making it untamed and wild, a feral tangle of pure white yarn as opposed to a tightly rolled tame ball of cream-colored wool.

_**You are a great wizard, cub. **_

_Who are you?_

**_I am Ari son of Llewellyn. My father was the familiar of the man you humans call Godric Gryffindor. _**Harry heard a chuckle echo in his mind. **_We just called him Rick._**

Harry's surprise translated into something along the lines of this:_ You mean that you're actually alive!?_

**_Yes, I am. Rick sealed me here to examine every one of his heirs to find my brother._**

_What do you mean, _brother_? Ari, you're a lion!_

Harry heard Ari chuckle again. **_Tell me something I don't know, cub. I said brother because humans and animals alike don't really have a word that fits the bond between wizard and familiar. _**Ari paused, as though finding the perfect words to express his thought. **_I think that you are my brother, Harry. _**

_I will do what I can. What do I need to do to free you, my friend? _Harry thought, as though saying it softly, but imbuing the feelings, the ones that people translated onto paper as thought, with power.

_**Touch the garnet that is the pendant on the chain around my neck.**_

Harry stepped forward and placed the palm of his tiny three-year-old's hand on the large red stone.

The enameled figure of the lion upon the vault's door glowed and his outline seemed to blur. Then, a splintering sound filled the air of the goblin-tunnels as a gargantuan Barbary lion rose from his seated position and stepped out of the image.

He lifted each paw stiffly, and then shook his mane as if he was getting water out of it. He showed his huge canines in a feral smile at Harry, who was looking calmly at Ari, and Harry's group of companions, who seemed scared out of their wits.

Ari's feeling of elation at being free flooded across the wizard-familiar link between them. **_Ah, to be free again! You know, I never thought I would miss breathing the air so much!_**

_Glad to hear you like it, Ari, because I don't think you're going back anytime soon. _Harry said, looking at the very still enameled lion, which had lain down and had his eyes closed in sleep.

**_He is just like the Ravenclaw guardian now, _**Ari said softly, **_a guardian of the vault, nothing more. The eagle that sat upon the jeweled tree, Andor, was my friend. He found his witch, his sister, long ago._**

_What of Hufflepuff and Slytherin? _Harry asked curiously.

**_Brock's brother is of your generation, I think, but he isn't bonded yet. His father, though insane, still is the Hufflepuff Family Head, and his grandmother is Regent until he comes of age. Since she is of the line, she can do that. You are the last of the Gryffindors, though, so no one could be regent for you. _**

**_Phineas was the first to leave us. His sister was Salazar's granddaughter. I'll miss that old adder. He might have been a bad-tempered sourpuss, but he was fun to play with, so long as he didn't bite you. _**

Nicholas looked as though a loaded Muggle safe had been dropped on his head, and seemed quite dazed. Sirius, Charles and Remus weren't all that much better. Sirius looked like Ari had sat on his chest, and Remus just looked worried. Charles looked like he was glued to his chair in terror. Thror just looked amused.

"Harry? What, and who, is that?" Remus asked, being the most coherent of the humans.

"Ari, this is my granddad, Nicholas Flamel," Harry gestured toward the nearly catatonic Nicholas, "my godfather and guardian, Sirius Black-Flamel," Harry motioned at the gaping Sirius, "my friend and uncle-by-choice, Remus Lupin," he waved toward the sandy haired and bearded man, "My grandfather, Charles Potter, who is actually dead, but left an imprint of himself in a portrait," Harry nodded to the terrified gentleman, "And Thror of the goblin nation," he pointed to the goblin in question. "And all of you folks, this is Ari, son of Llewellyn. He's my familiar."

The adults gawked at Harry a bit more.

**_Harry, tap the pendant on my imprint's chain and say, "Jure et dignitate gladii," to open the vault._**

Harry tapped the garnet. "Jure et dignitate gladii."2

The lion growled acquiescence in his sleep, and the magnificent gate acquired hinges along one edge, and the door swung inwards.

It wasn't a very big vault, not much bigger than the Potter one. The opening revealed a pile of ancient gold coins and several large, priceless rubies. But what drew their eyes was the brilliant scabbard to a (missing) sword.

Harry picked it up, and a few of the rubies and some coins, put it in the trunk with all the other assorted items they'd come across on this most interesting of days, and left the vault, Harry's hand meshed in Ari's mane.

1 These terms, Sejant, and Gardant, are heraldic terms. Sejant refers to the lion as sitting on his hindquarters, and Gardant means that he is facing the viewer.

2 This means "By the law and dignity of the sword." It's the motto of Cheshire.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Harry entwined his fingers in Ari's mane almost absentmindedly as he stood before the Merlinus Vault. It had taken approximately an hour to walk to the Merlinus vault, since Ari didn't fit in the mine carts and was too big for any Floo connection not Hagrid-sized.

The great entrance to the Vault of Merlin included an entrance hall, since this great mage's descendants had been the ones to aid in Gringotts' creation. Marble columns, laced with rose quartz, grew elegantly, gracefully, in style unimposing, out of the marble floor. The purple and orange, blue and red shades of sunset drifted almost lazily into the foyer, staining patches of marble stone into shades of baby blue, pink-orange, lilac, and boysenberry…

"You okay, cub? You haven't talked much since, well, the Potter Vault." Sirius stated, worry lacing his tone, his weight shifting from foot to foot nervously.

"M'fine, Padfoot. Just a little tired out, that's all." Harry said lethargically, attempting to smile comfortingly at his godfather, but his exhaustion turned the expression into a grimace.

**_You _should_ rest, young one._**

_Speak for yourself. I'm not made of glass, and I'm not about to collapse, either._

**_My oh my, so snappish. You _are _tired._**

_Whoof, _he sighed, _I am tired, but if I don't finish this I won't get to sleep anyway._

**_I'm inclined to agree. I spent most of the last thousand years asleep, waiting for heirs to visit the vault so I could see them, their children, and the possessions they left in the vault… and yet I still find that sleep has a hold on me that can only be delayed, not stopped._**

_I don't know what half of that meant, but I agree. I'm going to be snoozing all day tomorrow._

"Harry?" Nicholas queried. Harry's eyes returned from the slightly unfocused way that meant he was talking to Ari. The last of Ari's amber color left his hunter green eyes as Harry focused his attention on Nicholas. "Can you open the Merlinus Vault?"

Harry nodded, removed his fingers with some difficulty from Ari's mane, and strode confidently up to the great stone door.

A door forged by the Goblins with help from Grímr Langobarðr, the famed Dwarvish smith, the great gate to the Merlinus Vault was made of jet-black feldspar, covered in a blend of mercury, silver, and iron that was incredibly light, yet could be made into unparalleled and unmatched weapons and armor that none could oppose.

A rowan tree1 was carved into the dark mineral, a silvery metal filling the etchings. Twelve silver stars, designed in an arc just above the last shiny leaf of the rowan, seemed to be the crowning glory of that great gate. A thirteenth star, larger and higher up than the others, burned fiercely with a light not of this earth as Harry approached the Vault.

Harry grew in power as he placed his hand upon the rowan's trunk and muttered, "_Dulcet decorumst pro patria mori, sed dulcius pro patria vivere._"2

The great tree and silvery stars faded into ordinary grey metal as a great crack appeared in the visually solid stone. With a little squeaking, the door opened its right half to admit Harry. He pulled and pushed at the door until it was the rest of the way open to allow Nicholas, Sirius, Remus, Charles, and Ari enter. Thror stayed outside.

Deep in Harry's dog-tired brain, the great beauty of that vault reached a place that not even the chilling effects of the Dementors could ever take from him. Streams of silver streaked through the natural cavern's ceiling, making the soft glow of the magical lamps reflect off the snaking flows like starlight.

A battered grayish-blue hat, wide brimmed and pointy-crowned, was placed upon a pedestal. Beside that plinth was a second, smaller one, bearing a wolf's tooth inscribed with protective runes, strung on a metal necklace chain. Next to them, balancing in a wrought iron stand was a tall dogwood staff, smooth in places from use and rough in others from combat. A luminescent crystal was locked into a niche at the staff's tip, bestowing the area around the hat, fang, and staff with an ethereal and wraithlike light.

Harry tottered, a hand on Ari's shoulder for support, toward the hat's dais. Drawn by the same force with the hat as with the Brith Caregan3, he seized it by the brim and put it on.

A flash of light enveloped both Harry and the hat, which was now sitting freely upon his head, for a split second. Then, the light had retreated, and a voice rang out in the cavern. It was not a loud voice, nor a soft one, but it made every word articulated perfectly clear.

"O YE OF MY HOUSE, I CHOOSE YOU AS MY HEIR FREELY… YE MAY TAKE MY HAT, FOR IT IS YOURS NOW AND HAS MAGIC OF ITS OWN FROM BEING AROUND ME FOR SO LONG, AND MY STAFF, WHICH WILL DOUBTLESS SERVE YOU AS WELL, IN TIME OF WAR AND IN TIME OF PEACE, AS IT HAS SERVED ME… I ASK THAT YOU TAKE THE WOLF'S FANG AMULET, FOR I MADE IT FOR THE HEIR WHO WOULD HAVE MY HAT AND STAFF…"

"Who are you?" Harry asked, not in his _I'm a three year old, not a threat,_ voice but his _I'm a Lord of many Houses, don't make me annoyed, _voice.

"I WAS CALLED MERLIN, SON OF NONE… I AIDED A YOUNG KING GAIN CONTROL OF ENGLAND AND IN SO DOING SPAWNED MORE ENEMIES THAN FRIENDS… FOR THAT I AM SORRY. FOR THAT I WAS AND AM LAUDED, AND FOR HAVING POWER THAT FEW POSSESSED, EITHER BEFORE OR SINCE…

"NOW THE CHARM I PLACED UPON MY HAT IS WEARING THIN AND RAGGED… GOOD HEALTH AND LONG LIFE TO YOU, Harry JAMES MERLINUS GRYFFINDOR RAVENCLAW FLAMEL POTTER-BLACK…"

And the voice faded leaving a deafening silence and an exhausted child.

Sirius picked Harry up, the kid already slipping into sleep, Nicholas grabbed the hat and amulet, Ari took hold of the staff, and Remus carried Charles and guarded the rear of their little platoon as they left Gringotts in the light of a summer night.

1 A mountain ash

2 It is both sweet and seemly to die for the fatherland, but it is sweeter to live for it.

3 The silvery moonstone from Chapter 8


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**August 21, 1987**

"Huh," Sirius said, glancing over the morning paper on a marvelously sunny summer day. "Would you look at that… my mother died." He chewed at his lip in thought.

"From anyone else, or about anyone else, Sirius, that would sound very callous and rather heartless." Remus voiced, having traipsed into the kitchen just in time to hear Sirius' statement. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, squeezed by the Flamel house elf Fuzzy, and said, "Does this mean anything for you?"

"Well, I get the family signet ring now. Since I'm the head of House Black, I can let Cousin Andy and her daughter Dora back into the family. And since I don't - and can't - have any children by blood, I'll make Harry the Black Family Heir."

Sirius set his face grimly as he remembered a Death Eater attack, just after his seventh year, and the penalty of an infertility spell, the Wizarding equivalent of a vasectomy, he couldn't get removed…_ Ach, what's in the past is in the past, you scruffy old dog; lay off on the bad memories._

Nicholas tottered blearily into the kitchen, and fumbled with the teapot and his cup, that he had charmed unbreakable because of his dislike of the morning hours. Lemon juice and two lumps, as usual, went into the old pale green mug, but when he took a swallow of his tea his pure white hair turned into a spectacular rainbow of neon.

Sirius smirked and hid his beaming face behind his _Daily Prophet_.

Remus rolled his eyes, but stayed silent and gave his attention to staring, musing and thinking, out the window.

An owl swooped in the casement and landed on the table in front of Nicholas. He groggily looked up from his sleep-induced miasma and muttered, "Who're you after?"

But the owl would have none of it. The screech owl took one look at Nicholas' multihued and color-changing hair, hooted indignantly at the eye-hurting display, and flapped over to Remus to hand over its letter.

"It's from Professor Dumbledore, er, Albus. He's inviting us over for tea on the 25th and…" Remus peered at the letter to make sure he had understood a sentence correctly. "'_A portion of information I feel is incredibly important has come to my attention_.' Hmm, I wonder what that could be…"

"Oh, well, t'is no good to think on it now, at this ungodly hour of the morning." Nicholas murmured, and reached for the last plum on the silver tray in front of him. He got a good eyeful of his tinted reflection, and caught a glimpse of Sirius' sniggering visage. "SIRIUS!" Nicholas' face was turning a shade of maroon only seen when he got pranked.

He was irate, and probably more than a little frustrated, but he wasn't reaching for his wand, which meant that he a) wasn't wearing it, which was unlikely, b) had forgotten he had a wand on him, or c) remembered the sentiment most humans had called _humor_ that kept them from getting totally irrational about something like rainbow hair.

Judging by the expression on Nicholas' face, it was either 'a' or 'b'.

It was 'b'; Nicholas drew his wand, made of pear wood with a dragon scale for a core, and fired jinx after jinx at Sirius, whose sniggering had given way to raucous laughter, and who had fallen out of his chair in mirth.

That mirth didn't last long, as a full-blown prankster's duel was underway within the minute. Nicholas traded a twitchy ears curse for a color-change charm; Sirius fired off a trip jinx only to have it miss. He was then hit with a tangling hex that made his robes bunch up around his legs, forcing him to stumble and fall onto his behind.

"Ow." Sirius said dazedly, his eyes nearly crossed as he tried to track Nicholas' wand pointed between his eyes. "That _hurt_, Granddad."

"Serves you right, Padfoot, you old Marauder, you; when, oh when, will you learn to not cross the aging but still strong Leonardo?"

"Leonardo?" Remus asked curiously.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Seeing blank looks, Nicholas sighed and pocketed his wand, took a cleansing breath… and _changed_...

A middling-sized lion stood in place of the elderly chap that had been there only a few moments before. A white lion of the Transvaal region of South Africa, his mane was a lot slighter and less bulky than Ari's; as a Barbary lion, Ari's pale mane was very thick, and extended from his forehead to halfway along his underbelly. A self-satisfied look was plastered upon his features.

"You got a mountain of shed hair on my bed! I blamed Ari for that!" Sirius said.

"How long have you been an Animagus?" asked Remus, who was completely unfazed by the whole thing.

Nicholas changed back with a small 'pop!'

"Since I was 189 years old; I helped to create the potion that allows the change in most people. It's not widely known nowadays, but some people Change of their own accord, spontaneously, without the aid of the potion. It requires a lot of power, power that I don't have."

Sirius and Remus shared a look.

_If a wizard with the amount of power he does can't do it, then who could? _Remus thought bemusedly. _Albus? Maybe…but being an Animagus changes your scent, and I've never smelled it around him…but then again, I've never smelled it around Nicholas and connected it with his scent, I assumed the Animagus odor was Padfoot's dog fur coating everything…_

Nicholas fell into silence, poured his pranked tea out in the sink, and got a fresh cup. He sat back down, and cradled the mug in his grasp, deep in contemplation.

This reflection was interrupted by Harry bouncing into the kitchen and looking at Nicholas' still multicolored hair. "Whoa. What did I miss, Granddad? Your hair looks like a rainbow."

"Wha?" Nicholas said intelligently.1 He reached towards the silver platter that did double duty as a last-minute mirror, looked into it, and said, "Damn," and removed the charm.

Ari tramped in and made a beeline for the bowl filled with lamb that the house elves made for his breakfast. He gobbled it slightly greedily – and very messily.

_Urgh, Ari, that's really gross._

_**And I think the sounds you make when slurping a root beer float through a straw are truly vulgar. Do I comment on it?**_

_Yes._

**_You were supposed to say 'no,' cublet._**

_Well, I didn't. Get over it._

**_My my, you've become cheeky as you've aged, Harry._**

_I am NOT old, Ari! You're one to talk, you one-thousand-year-old lion!_

**_For your information, I was asleep for most of that time! _**Ari sounded/felt like he was faking the indignant feeling that was pouring into their bond.

_You're not about to kick the bucket on me, are you?_

**_No, you're in the clear there; I'll die a few days after you do, as long as I don't fall in battle._**

_Oh. Good. I'd miss you, you great lump._

_**Why thank you… Hey!**_

And the kitchen was treated to the amusing sight of a large, heavy lion chasing after a screeching little boy. When Ari caught him, (under the table, squeaking), he gave Harry's face a few good slobbery licks from a rough tongue. As soon as Harry sat up, slightly pink faced, he made a grimace and said to the room at large, "Ari, your breath is foul. We really should get the house elves to feed you vegetables."

Ari made a sound pretty close to "Eeep!" and made his face go into its I'm-a-good-boy pose.

This made everybody crack up.

1 Sarcasm, people!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

**August 25, 1987**

The Floo in the Headmaster's office made a noise like bells ringing in the beginning of Pachelbel's Canon in D, signaling a connection being made into it.

Out of the emerald flames stepped Perenelle Flamel. She wore a magnificent flax-colored robe under an indigo cloak that swept from side to side as she stepped forward and gave Albus Dumbledore a warm one-armed hug. When they broke off the friendly embrace, he spoke.

"Ah, Perenelle, it has been too long!"

"Indeed it has, Albus, my old friend."

"The boys are approaching behind you?"

"Yes, they are; Harry can't find his good shoe, that's what holding them up. Remus has settled in nicely, and both he and Sirius are just happy to be part of a family that loves him."

Both Perenelle Saint-Jerôme1 Flamel and Albus Dumbledore allowed silence to fill the office, as they recalled Remus' plight. Not three months before, his cottage had burned down, and Remus had been wholly lost and out of hope when the Flamels had given him a job as the librarian in the massive Flamel Family Library. Remus, being the bookworm that he was, was delighted with his newfound position, and his proximity to Harry.

Albus broke the silence. "What news of Harry?"

Perenelle tittered in mirth. "Yesterday, I was looking for Harry, and I couldn't find him anywhere, not the kitchen, not the Den, not the music room – he loves to practice the violin you gave him for his birthday in there – and not Sirius' or Remus' rooms, or his own room.

"But when I checked his room, I found the most peculiar of books on his bed. It was a scrapbook of all his pranks; it goes back up to two years ago, when he covered Sirius in condiments, complete with pictures."

She grinned at the comical memory. Sirius had awoken from his daily nap in the sun in the Den-room to find himself covered in catsup and mustard in the shape of a huge lion rampant.

Albus chuckled. "Yes, I remember Nicholas telling me about that. Sirius was happy that Harry is following in the Marauders' footsteps, though he really doesn't like being the one pranked very much. Minerva, when I told her of Harry's first real prank, went very pale, and said, 'Is it too late for me to resign, Albus? I don't think I could take another seven years of the Marauders.'"

Perenelle's fruity laugh and Albus' deep chortle filled the office, resounding and echoing off the many hard surfaces in the large space.

Then the Floo chimed again, signaling the arrival of Nicholas and Harry, then Sirius, and last, pulling up the rear, Remus, who was helping Ari through the Floo.

Nicholas wore a myrtle-green cloak, split down the middle so when he moved, it shifted to reveal a dark grey sweater that he had gotten on the Arran Islands and a pair of black Muggle dress pants (he wasn't as woefully ignorant of Muggles as most of his Wizarding counterparts). Sirius dressed in an olive-tinted cloak over a rust-colored summer robe. Remus sported a new slate-gray cloak that was designed to show the robe underneath, in this case Remus' viridian-shaded garb.

"Hi, Professor," Harry said, a broad smile growing upon his face.

"Hello, Harry. Please, sit. Let us have our tea, and then our business." Albus gestured to the four soft armchairs arranged around his desk. Nicholas sat to Albus' right and Harry's left; Albus' left was to Perenelle and to her left was Remus. Sirius sat between his godson on his left and Remus on his right. Ari sat behind Harry, his face taller then the chair, which allowed him to see whatever that may be going on.

They ate the tea service, made and delivered by the Hogwarts House Elves, which was delicious as always. When all had eaten their fill, Albus asked a question that was very sensible in hindsight.

"Now, I must ask you, are any of you afraid of snakes?" Albus said, twitching his silvery eyebrows upward in a jerky motion. He received only shakes of heads in the negative. "Good," he said, continuing, "Because I have someone here I think Harry ought to meet." He reached into a tank beneath his desk and lifted, with surprising strength, the front half of a seven foot (2 m) albino Burmese Python onto the desk.

"_Hello_," Harry hissed, "_What are you called?_"2

"Ah, I see that I was right, then. Harry has inherited Parseltongue, the ability to speak with snakes, from Tom Riddle through the failed _Avada Kedavra_." Dumbledore said softly, fascinated by the display of Harry's gift.

The adults gasped in surprise. Ari looked apprehensive, and quietly amused at the adults' reactions to this revelation.

"_I am called Cenek, young speaker, son of Senka. What are you called?_" the python hissed, his surprise at finding someone to talk to showing in his tone.

"_I am called Harry, Cenek, son of James and Lily._"

Albus raised Cenek back into his tank. "_Goodbye, Harry, young speaker. If you come to see me again, I will enjoy the chance to speak with you. Thank you for your conversation,_" he said.

"_You're welcome, Cenek, son of Senka. I will remember you_." Harry whispered back.

"Harry? Do you know what, exactly, you just showed us?" Nicholas said quietly.

"Uh…that would be a no, Granddad. Do you mean you couldn't understand him…or me?" Harry said worriedly.

"No, Harry, we didn't understand whatever you said to Albus' new pet python, or whatever it said back to you. You spoke in Parseltongue."

"Parsel-what?"

"Parseltongue, snake language."

"I spoke a different language? It sounded just like English to me…"

"It sounded like hissing to the rest of us. Hissssss, Hisss, Hisssssssssssss…" Sirius muttered.

Harry gaped at his godfather for a long moment, and then burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sirius said indignantly.

"You said, 'all hail the mutant guinea pigs,' Padfoot."

Albus cleared his throat, bringing Harry's attention back from laughing at Sirius' beet red face. Harry sobered, and turned back to the Headmaster attentively.

"You may have other gifts, Harry, which were passed down through your family lines."

"Like what? Remus asked curiously.

"Like Grimtongue…this is the ability to speak to canines."

Sirius transformed with a 'pop!'

"**Harry, can you understand me?**"3 Sirius barked, quietly enough so as to not disturb the portraits, but loud enough that Harry could hear him well.

"**Aye, I can, Padfoot**," Harry barked back.

"Yes, he could understand me, and I could understand him." Sirius said in explanation to the wondrous faces of Albus, Nicholas, Perenelle, Remus, and a few of the portraits.

"Harry?" Albus said. Harry turned to the headmaster. "Make this candle," he lit the lone candle on his desk, "go out."

Harry waved his hand, and it guttered out. He waved it back, and the flame returned.

"Fire Elemental," Nicholas breathed.

"Lift this book, please," Albus asked Harry.

Harry took one glance at the old tome and gestured at it lazily, making it raise itself three feet (2/3 m) off the desk.

"Air Elemental," Nicholas muttered to himself.

_**They are testing you, cub.**_

_I know, Ari, but what can I do but do it?_

Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose, and yawned. This day had drained him, and he had done some major magic for the first time.

Sirius saw this. "I think it's high time we headed back to Hall-on-the-Sea, Albus, as it's been a long day, and I think some of us are going to run into the ground very soon."

"I can agree. The students arrive in a few days, and I must get my rest while I can. But, I must ask that we have tea – and information – again sometime."

"Agreed," said at least three people at once.

"I take my leave, old friend." Nicholas said to Albus. "May Merlin smile on you."

"And on you, my friend. Have a safe trip home!"

And they left through the Floo, a long, draining day prompting them to go to sleep early.

So they did.

1 Perenelle's maiden name

2 _This _means that Parseltongue is being spoken. Only the snake and Harry (and Ari through the bond between them) can understand this. Hissing is all the rest can hear.

3 This is Grimtongue. Only Harry, Ari and the one being spoken to can understand this; all the rest hear are various canine sounds.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 

**September 8th, 1987**

The Floo in the Headmaster's office made a noise like bells ringing in the beginning of Pachelbel's Canon in D, signaling a connection being made into it.

Professor Albus Dumbledore made five hopeful wishes upon his lucky stars, three on Merlin, and one each on the three loyal Hogwarts founders that it wouldn't be _"Minister"_ Fudge, or some other ministry meddler.

His wishes became unneeded, and he stopped making them, when it was a lion's shape in the Floo. Ari, the son of Llewellyn, Harry's familiar and brother shook his fur like he had just gotten out of a tarn of water as he stepped dazedly from the hearth.

"Hello, Ari."

The lion's amber eyes drilled into Albus' blue sparklers. **_Hello, Headmaster. I assume you wish to speak with my brother about his other gifts?_**

"How do you know of his other gifts?" Albus asked surprised, one that Ari knew of his curiosity and two that Ari had guessed the subject of this continued conversation so quickly.

Ari's throaty growl resembled a human chuckle in both sound and intent. **_I'm bonded with him, Albus; I know his memories like the back of my hand, I know his habits, his peccadilloes and the depths of his honor. _**

_**He is my friend among the throng of foes, my brother in the world that lies in shadow, my ally in battle, and my lifeline when I'm down in the dumps.**_

**_Not only that, but his very magic is an open book to me…a cream-colored cloth, embroidered in many different colors, a veritable rainbow of dazzling hues…_**

**_I see the creature that he truly is that prowls in the deepest, darkest part of his soul, a gargantuan black wolf with silver eyebrows and merciless green eyes that burn, wreathed in a heatless fire that scores you to the depth of your being, eyes that have seen your mortality and found you wanting._**

**_You have seen his control over Rick's fire and Row's breeze, and the speech of Slytherin and Black, Parseltongue and Grimtongue, but you have only but scraped the surface. Were you to give him a wand, and show him how to use a few dueling spells, he would be able to defeat you soundly, and wipe the floor with your face, at this very moment!_**

Ari let his monologue sink into Albus' brain as he found a place to lie down. And he did so, relaxing onto the rug beside Fawkes' stand.

"What do you know of his magics?" Albus asked the great lion softly.

Ari sighed. **_Far more than I would ever wish to, Albus. He is a member of Merlin knows how many families through both Lily and James. At the age of eleven I know that he will be the Family Head of Merlinus, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Potter; I also know, from what Sirius and Nicholas have told me, that the fiefs Black, Saint-Jerôme, and Flamel will become his, by blood, magic, and right, when they pass away. _**

_**Granted, Nicholas isn't going anywhere, and neither is Perenelle, and I think Sirius has taken some of the elixir of life, but those families – and the headship with them – are in his blood, it's part of his magic, and through his magic I can see it.**_

**_The MacArthur lord, one Gerald MacArthur, is not a descendant of Merlin, but his barony is powerful in its own right, and is Harry's sixth cousin three times removed, I think. _**

**_The House of Moody is in Harry's blood, he's Alastor's fifth cousin twice removed. Perhaps someone should tell Alastor that the House of Moody will not lie dormant, as there is an heir apparent. _**

**_Harry is the Heir Apparent of House Longbottom, but seeing as Neville is Harry's age, I think Harry's going to get much farther from that line of succession, and, as the last sane heir of Hufflepuff, Neville's clout is rivaled only by Harry's. _**

**_Harry is related to the Weasleys through Molly Weasley née Prewett, and is very far from the line of succession in that house. It is through the Prewetts that both the Weasley boys and Harry himself get part of their terrible battle-tempers; Harry's, though, also comes through Merlin's line; Merlin was famed first for his ferocity in combat, and temper in times of peace, and famed for his powerful magic second._**

Albus' brain barely registered any of this, as he stared intently at the Floo, waiting for the broad, stooped form of Nicholas, the average height but thin shape that was Remus, or the tall, muscular warrior build that signaled Sirius.

But Ari's next sentiment crossed time and space, shaking Albus' world from it's foundations to the topmost towers. **_He is _your_ heir as well, Albus._**

Albus turned his head sharply toward the lion. "What!? I have no children, and Aberforth's never been more sterile…" Then, it dawned on him. "My sister," he said simply. "Sarah…" he whispered, emotions he had occluded behind a dam burst forth…

_The love I felt for my beautiful, kind, smart, funny sister… the joy at seeing her married, to one William Potter… Her death of cancer, when she was but 29, and I only 36…_

_How did I not remember?_

_Oh, right, I kept myself from remembering because it was too painful._

"I, Lord Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Head of the House of Dumbledore, hereby instate one Lord Harry James Merlinus Gryffindor Ravenclaw Flamel Potter-Black as the sole heir of the House, and as my personal heir. So I speak, so I intend,"

**_So let it be done. _**Ari growled approvingly.

A wave of magic, visible to the Mage-Sight Charms on Albus' glasses, spread in a wave out from Albus like ripples do from a drop in a still pond. Fawkes awoke as the current passed through him, and gazed at Albus questioningly. "No worries, old friend, I'm just doing something I should have done long ago."

The Floo chimed in the familiar Canon as Nicholas, Sirius, and Harry stepped into the great office, coughing from the ash.

"Hi, Professor," Harry chirped cheerfully, grinning widely at the Headmaster. A pair of silver rimmed glasses hung on the bridge of his nose. The panes before his emerald eyes helped to dull Harry's sometimes piercing, and quite unnerving, gaze somewhat.

_Those are new, _Albus thought, "Are those your new glasses, Harry?"

"Aye, Professor. I went to an optometrist – that's a Muggle eye doctor – and apparently I have my-oh-pi-uh, which these glasses help to fix."

As before, the occupants sat in a circle about the Head's Desk. Since both Remus and Perenelle were missing, buying more books to help update the library, Harry sat between Nicholas and Sirius. Ari napped not six feet behind them, relaxing on the plush throw next to Fawkes' stand.

"Harry, not two weeks ago we sat within this very office. We ate a meal together, but what I feel was more important than that was the revelation of familial gifts in your possession.

"You showed us Parseltongue, the ability to speak with snakes, which I believe the failed Avada Kedavra gave you. I cannot say at this time what else that failed curse might have inflicted on you – or blessed you with.

"You showed us Grimtongue, the ability to speak with canines, which is a Black familial trait, which you inherited from Walburga Black, your father's mother.

"You showed us Fire Elemental skills, the ability to create and manipulate fire wandlessly, which is a trait, possessed by Godric Gryffindor, and was, passed down through his granddaughter to the Potter line, and from that to you.

"You showed the Air Elemental skills that were one of the trademarks of Rowena Ravenclaw. This trait gives you the ability to manipulate the atmosphere around you.

"But, you are heir to and member of many other houses. Do you feel up to, shall we say, 'showing off,' your magical talents for us?"

Harry nodded, once he had sensed Ari's approval through the bond.

"All right then!" Albus pulled a book out from under his desk, opened it to a specific page, and asked Harry to read it. Harry did so, while wondering what in heck all this could be about.

"Harry, can you tell me what you just read?" Albus asked as he closed the book.

Harry answered, "'The phrase 'Transfixtus sed mortuus' is the motto of the Walshes of the Mountain: 'Pierced but not dead,'"

Nicholas hopped in his seat in excitement as he spoke. "Harry, you've got my memory! The Flamel Memory lives again!"

"So that's why I was never able to catch Lily reading the same book twice; she'd already read and memorized it, who needs to read it again? Or take notes, really?" Sirius muttered darkly.

"Flamel Memory?" Harry looked confusedly at his grandfather.

"What I've dubbed the Flamel Memory is really just a photographic memory, like in the Muggle world, but in our family it means that we can also see a spell performed and duplicate it perfectly on the first try."

"Cool!" Harry said. He _really_ liked the idea of duplicating the effects of spells_. Prank war, here I come…_

"Harry," Albus said, getting Harry's attention. "Transfigure this match," Albus laid a match on the desk, "Into a needle." Albus transfigured the match with a wand, and back again.

Harry snapped his fingers, and lo! In the place of a match there was a large silvery needle, glinting in the light of the setting sun that poured in through the windows.

"I believe, Harry, that you just showed us Potter Transfiguration, no Sirius, not the Potters' affinity for Transfiguration, but their ability to do it wandlessly. I can't transfigure without a wand, and neither can Minerva, but you can, Harry, because you are a blood Potter.

"Next task, Harry: I want you to pay attention, _really_ pay attention, to this spell." Albus waved his wand in a complicated movement, saying nothing, and after three repetitions Harry's eyes caught a flash of beautiful neon blue light.

"Whoa! What was that!?" Harry asked, incensed.

"That, Harry, was your mage sight kicking in. You can 'see' magic that 'lives' in the surrounding area, in the form of light or multicolored sparks that swirled in the wind. I can do the same, but through my glasses; I'm not one of the line of Merlin, so I can't see it with the naked eye. When you get really good at using Mage Sight, Harry, you can see people's auras, and – in a very limited way – their emotions."

"Ah." Harry said, wondering what in heck this would mean for him later.

A chime rang out from a cuckoo clock on the office wall; the hand said, _Time to Go to Dinner_. "Oh my, I must go to dinner, the students expect me to be there. Ta-Ta! And may Merlin smile on you." Albus said, in a jumble as he sped through the office, out the door, and into the hall.

So the people who didn't live in those quarters left, to get home to eat a meal cooked by Flopsy and all the other house-elves.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

**December 3rd, 1988**

Perenelle roamed the corridors of the Hall-on-the-Sea, searching for her great-great-grandson. Finally, in the western wing of the old manor house, she heard a sound, beautiful music wafting upon the breezes that wrapped themselves through the 16th century mansion.

After a few moments of thought, she recognized the music's originator, a violin.

And Harry was the only one who could play the violin in the Hall. Sirius was more of a clarinet person, and Remus had learned to play the piano's keys from his now-deceased mother in his childhood. Nicholas had played the harp, in centuries past, often fancying himself a bard.

She hummed to herself a tune that Nicholas had composed, back in the days when he sang in taverns, an old ballad of a pack of werewolves he once knew. That pack of seven had existed as magical symbioses, with one magical core, and when their Alpha died in battle, they died with her out of grief…

_Flashback_

_I swore that day that no man_

_Would come between me and my clan,_

_Those that give trust to me_

_Find that I fight to keep them free._

_My hand in yours,_

_My might with yours,_

_My life for yours,_

_Now and forevermore…_

_And he smiled at me as he finished his bard's lay, smiling and showing his white teeth through that bushy auburn beard of his. "Hello there." The man said suavely, sidling onto the bar next to me as he took a gulp of his ale, and licked the foam off his wild moustache._

"_Good evening." I answered tiredly. I'd had a bad day, oh Merlin; I really didn't need someone who wanted to use my body sitting right next to me…_

_He looked at my lined, pale face that was outlined by my long, light blonde hair. He put a rough, calloused hand on my shoulder and asked, "Is something wrong?"_

_I could see the agonizing written upon his features, the wrinkling of the lines around his eyes, the worry that looked out from his eyes, set in deep sockets. I used my limited knowledge of Legilimency to do a cursory scan of his intentions, and I found nothing amiss. He didn't want to hurt me in any way, shape, or form, so I breathed a little easier, "No, I think I'll be okay. I just had the day from Hell." I gave a halfhearted, wan smile._

_The stranger chuckled, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "I could say the same, really. By Merlin, it's very annoying, how all the fan girls crawl all over me, begging me to sing again, and again, and again, 'til finally I can't sing a note out of exhaustion."_

_I laughed despite myself. Something about this man, not much older than me, made my tongue loosen in speech, words flowing from my mouth as they didn't for anyone else._

_End Flashback_

_Little did I know, then, that I was falling in love; Ha! Perenelle Gaëlle Saint-Jerôme, daughter of Merle the eccentric old bookbinder, the ice queen, finally melting into a puddle?_

_At the time, I didn't believe in love._

_But over time, Nicholas showed me that even the hardest icicles melt when spring comes, that even the most stubborn among women would soften when shown that not all love is physical attraction, and not all marriages are forced…_

The sounds of one of Harry's compositions broke through Perenelle's musings and memories. _I know this song_, she thought_. T'is a beautiful poem, but Harry's melody makes the words come to life… _She thought the words of the poem as Harry played the short piece's fast, lilting melody.

_Life is like_

_An old folk tune_

_Sometimes glad_

_Sometimes sad_

_Sometimes quick_

_Sometimes it drags its feet_

_But on and on it goes_

_People dance, and laugh_

_And have a good time_

_While the music lasts_

_And when one tune ends_

_Another begins…_

_Das Leben ist wie _

_eine alte Volkmelodie,_

_manchmal, das frohes _

_manchmal trauriges _

_manchmal schnelles _

_manchmal sie seine _

_Füße aber auf schleppt und auf ihr _

_Leutetanz geht, und Lachen _

_und hat eine gute Zeit,_

_während die Musik dauert _

_und wenn eine Melodie beendet_

_andere anfängt..._

_And I cannot agree more, my grandson. _Perenelle pondered happily.

She found him in the music room, beginning the song again. He tapped his foot in rhythm as he played the part once more. Perenelle gasped involuntarily as she saw Harry's aura flicker into view, pulsating in time with the beat.

Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, went the thumping of the tempo.

Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa; Harry wandlessly conjured robins that flew around his head, singing the harmony lines as he performed the melody.

Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa; puffs of smoky-grey air gathered around Harry's head, like one of the gods of legend, as they made the Great Music that made the world.

Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa; Harry threw improvisation into the performance, making the notes sail into a higher octave, and back down again, delving into the untouched oceans.

Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa, Oom-pa-pa; the piece came to a halt with the crash of a mighty chord that reverberated across the stone, across the door, across Perenelle Flamel.

_Merlin! I've never seen such power thrown around, even when Nicholas is dueling one of his training dummies to let off steam!_

_Harry, oh Harry, what is this…?_

"I know you're there, Granmama, I can hear you breathing." Harry called to her smugly.

"Harry? What in hell was that!?!"

"Wow, you must be shocked. I never hear you curse, that's Granddad's and Padfoot's job."

"You didn't answer my question, you sly dog."

Harry shrugged. "I let my magic get into the music I was playing. Nothing huge."

_Nothing huge? Nothing huge! Oh, yeah, kid, all you've managed to do is more wandless magic than anyone else on the planet that's still alive! Bah, nothing huge, my hat!_

Her voice shook slightly. "Harry, will you let me cast a magic-viewing spell on you? I want to check something."

Harry nodded absently as he rummaged for another piece of music to play.

"Dimostrare la vostra magia."1 Perenelle said softly, putting all the power she could muster into the spell as she waved her wand over her grandson.

What she saw shocked her. Harry's form was obscured – to her eyes – by a bright white light that blinded her and filled the room. _Albus and Nicholas don't have that much power, even!_

_I must tell them…_

"See you at dinner, Harry," Perenelle called behind her as she left the music hall.

"Bye," he replied, already beginning to play a Welsh folk tune.

Perenelle shook her head as he infused the song with his magic again. _Boys. Well, at least it's not hurting him, and I think he finds it fun._

_Off to find the adults…_

0

That night, after dinner and after Harry had gone to bed, a meeting took place within the sanctuary of the Flamel Family Library. Two Animagi, a powerful and ancient witch, a werewolf, and a slightly barmy headmaster sat within the warm, dark and cozy chamber. Cherry bookshelves lined the scarlet walls, walls that upon which the light of candles flickered. A fire roared in the grate. Five large, soft armchairs were arranged in a circle around a dark-colored carved wood table.

"Wandless magic, you say?" Albus muttered.

"Aye," Perenelle answered. "I don't think that you, or Nicholas, could have replicated it, even if you had your wands. When I cast the Magic-viewing spell on him, I was blinded with the huge amount of white light."

Remus had been silent and contemplative up to this point. He spoke in a hushed tone, "I have always been able to see his power, and I knew he would one day rival you both," gesturing to Nicholas and Albus, "But I had no idea, no inkling, that this day would come so soon."

Sirius was muttering under his breath, but the only words one could make out were "Harry," "Power," and "Unbelievable."

1 Show your magic


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 

**December 4****th****, 1988**

"Padfoot, you slowpoke, hurry up!" Harry yelled to his godfather as they ran along the beach at Hall-on-the-Sea.

Sirius scowled as well as he could as he attempted to force some air into his lungs. _My lungs feel like they're on fire, _he thought. _So much for easing in to the morning runs. _"Harry… most of us… mortals aren't …cheetahs… in disguise," he panted in between breaths.

Harry just grinned at the huffing and puffing Sirius as he ran backwards. "But Granddad says that cheaters never prosper, and I'm certainly prospering. And anyway, Padfoot, you really need to read up more; cheetahs go really fast, and then burn out. I'm more of a wolf that goes at a slower speed, but can keep up the lope for _hours_ without tiring."

_Oh Merlin, no… I don't think I can even keep up for the last ½ of a kilometer back to the Hall…_

But he lasted – barely. Harry ran up the stairs to his room to change and shower.

Sirius collapsed into his chair at the kitchen table just as Remus and Nicholas walked in.

"I win." Remus sniggered at the sight of a sweaty and panting Sirius, who looked as though he'd worked through a triathlon when all he'd done was run three kilometers or so.

Nicholas scowled and handed Remus his winnings - three galleons.

"Win…what?" Sirius managed to wheeze out.

"He bet that you'd look like you normally do after a good game of Quidditch, and I bet that you'd look like you ran yourself ragged." Remus said smugly.

Sirius face turned a shade of vermillion as he tried to look indignant. Unfortunately for him, he was still trying to BREATHE and therefore wasn't succeeding in doing both at once. He did, however, succeed in looking like a frightened puffer fish, much to his dismay and Remus' and Nicholas' amusement and laughter.

Fuzzy popped into the kitchen, bearing a tray of cheese and fruit tarts. "Your breakfast, good sirs," he said squeakily.

"Thanks, Fuzzy." Remus said kindly to the old elf, dressed in a midnight blue uniform that was common to the Flamel house-elves. Nicholas offered to free them and pay them at least once every year, but it was always cheerfully declined.

Fuzzy bobbed his head, making his ears flap, and making the shock of white hair that grew there – the only sign of his advancing age – jiggle about. He popped back to the kitchens with a 'Crack!'

Harry chose this moment to fly down the banister and into his chair, pulling a few rashers of bacon, four sausages, two pieces of toast, and scrambled eggs onto his plate. He began to wolf down his high-protein breakfast with gusto.

"Trying to build some muscle, Harry?" Remus asked, as a smirk cut across his face.

Harry shook his head in the negative – as best he could with toast and eggs in his mouth. "No," he replied once he cleared his mouth, "I'm trying to replace the energy I burned on that run this morning with the least amount of chewing involved." He resumed gorging – er, chewing – his breakfast, and not even Ari meandering sleepily into the kitchen could break his focus.

_**Harry, Perenelle is going to quiz you on that Muggle mathematics stuff after breakfast.**_

_Mmmpht._

_**Too busy eating to care, I see.**_

_Got it in one, Ari._

Once Harry had stopped guzzling his morning chow and was merely chewing contemplatively, Ari tried getting Harry in conversation again. _**You're going over that early geometry, the Pythagorean Theorem, I think.**_

_Isn't that the one that says the squared length of the hypotenuse is the same as the squared length of each shorter side added together in a right triangle? Like, 5__2 __ 4__2__ + 3__2_

_**That's the one. Nicholas is going to let you blow up the lab again – er, try to teach you some more potions and a little beginning alchemy.**_

_It's not my fault I handed him lead when he pointed to the mercury right next to it!_

_**Maybe not, but it **_**is**_** your fault that the gold cauldron became a stone block.**_

_It's your fault._

_**What do you mean, it's **_**my**_** fault? I've done nothing - and what exactly is 'it,' anyway?**_

'_It' is the general workings of the universe, and I'm blaming it on you because I don't have anyone else to pin it on._

_**That's totally unfair!**_

_That's the workings of my brain that says, 'Ari woke me up too early.' Man, Ari, you SNORE so loud that you were probably heard from here to Kalamazoo!_

0

All that the adults heard of this scuffle was Ari and Harry growling at each other in utter and total frustration.

Sirius flashed a hand-sign across the table to Remus and then flicked his gaze to the quarrelling duo.

Remus caught the signal. It looked like Sirius was crossing all his fingers at once, then released them and twisted them the other way. It meant, _'What the hell is going on here?'_

His hands burst a signal right back at Sirius – _'I have no clue.'_They continued to hand-speak in this manner, as they had in their Marauder days, right before a really big prank or when they really didn't want to get caught. _'Think we should prank 'em?'_

'_Yeah. D'you have any ideas?' _

'_Bucket of water on 'em?'_

'_Moony, that's a first-year trick! I want something spectacular, like turn Harry's food into jell-o.'_

They sniggered. Harry's aversion to jell-o knew no bounds.

'_That's a good idea. Can you pull it off?'_

'_Hell yes, I did it to Snivellus once, remember?'_

'_Oh, right. Go ahead, then.'_

Remus smirked inwardly. _Sirius seems to have forgotten that Harry gives as good as he gets, and he's far more powerful at the age of eight than Albus and Nicholas put together…_

His thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation of disgust from Harry as he bit into his jell-o – formerly eggs.

Sirius sniggered at his godson's expression of revulsion. "Sirius!" Harry fumed, and then seemed to smile evilly…

He brushed his hands in the air, creating a ball of unpolluted radiance that he then pressed in the air in Sirius' direction.

0

Sirius had time for only one thought before Harry's wandless spell slammed into him. _Uh-oh… _

0

Remus saw the jet of sickly yellow light knock into Sirius. _That's not any spell I know…_

Sirius aged drastically in the span of a few seconds. His hair turned a silvery-grey, his back stooped, his handlebar moustache grew to his knees, and he blinked owlishly as his eyesight dimmed.

Remus asked, "What did you do to him, Harry?"

Harry smirked. "I aged him about a hundred years or so. He'll be back to normal within an hour – but I don't think he'll like the experience of being so… so… _old. _Maybe he'll have learned to not mess with me by then."

"I don't think he'll _ever_ learn _that_, Harry."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**January 6****th****, 1989**

"Hey, Moony," Sirius' voice spoke in the sunlit library of The Hall on the Sea.

"Yes, Padfoot?" Remus turned away from the slightly dusty bookshelf he had been perusing, turned toward his best friend, one whom had stood by him for nearly two decades, and with whom the reverse was also true.

"D'you ever think we're, you know… spoiling Harry? Coddling him? Or raising him in a way James and Lily would hate?"

Remus looked closer at Sirius. He was shifting his weight from right foot to left foot, like he did whenever he'd been caught in the act of pranking someone by that someone. "Do you really think that, or is it just your insecurity talking?"

"What –What are you talking about?!" Sirius sputtered indignantly.

Remus sighed, and set down the rather large leather-bound volume he was carrying on a nearly table. He crossed his arms across his chest, and looked into Sirius' slightly guilty-looking face. "I'm talking about that discussion with Lily and James, right after Harry was born."

"What… oh. _Oh_. I see now - you mean the one where I tried to… _dissuade…_ Prongs and Lily from making me Harry's Godfather?"

"What other one is there? At that point I think Lily was still a little mad at you for placing bets on how long her labor would last."

"Oh yeah. Anyway, I still think you would've made a better Godfather." Sirius looked up from staring at his shoes. "You were prefect, remember?"

"Yes, I was. And a lousy one, too – I couldn't even keep a reign on you and James, much less all of Gryffindor Tower."

"As if we would've let you!"

"You're right." Remus brushed his sandy hair, already liberally speckled with grey, out of his face in a nervous gesture. "No, I don't think we're coddling Harry. He's grown up with a bunch of great adult role models – even if _you_ still act like a two-year-old sometimes, you're often the most realistic of all of us in the Hall.

"Nicholas gets those dour and serious moods, where he'll snap at anyone and anything, Perenelle will sometimes stay in her study for hours on end, studying like crazy about some new charm theory or other, and I'm pretty much dead weight four days out of twenty-eight depressed and eating ice cream in bed. You, on the other hand, are just plain bubbly and cheerful 24/7, and can get any of us out of our self-depreciating and nasty ruts.

"We've kept Harry fairly isolated, true, and he doesn't really know how to act around kids his own age, but even that has a reason."

"Because he'll wreak havoc among the Muggle kids in the village, and because being around a bunch of Wizarding kids would probably freak out the other children?"

"Got it in one, Padfoot. No, I think that, all things considered, Harry is a happy and well-adjusted ten-year-old. He loves his music and Ari, and having that bond keeps his pigheadedness to a minimum."

"You forgot flying and running me ragged every morning." Sirius grinned.

"He does seem to enjoy you looking like you've run for your life."

"Aye, and that he does. He seems to be better in the kitchen than any of us, even Perenelle-"

"When the house-elves let him, that is."

"Touché." Sirius smiled wanly. "So I'm just being a bit insecure?"

"I think so. Most Wizarding kids don't see many other people their own age until they go to Hogwarts, remember?"

"You're right, Moony. I know I didn't, and James didn't either. Even the Weasleys are pretty much alone until they go to Hogwarts."

Sirius seemed to drift off into his memories for a long moment, and then he grinned widely again, and chuckled a bit.

Remus looked warily at him. _He only does that when he's thinking of pranks, or remembering a particularly good one…_ "What?"

"Remember that incident with those Muggle boys - Adams, Dunn, and Jackson - last spring?"

"When Harry turned their hair and skin green, and shrunk 'em down to about house-elf size? If I remember right, they called him 'weirdo,' 'moron,' and 'nutter' before he finally reacted to 'freak.'"

"That's the one, Moony."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Didn't that take fourteen Obliviators and the Magic Reversal Squad to mop up? As well as a ton of paperwork for you?"

Sirius scowled. "That part I don't like remembering."

0

In an adjoining room, an argument had gone from 'underway' to 'exploding.'

"Now, Harry, don't be so frustrated –"

"I am not frustrated; I am annoyed - with _myself_. I need to learn Occlumency, and I can't seem to shut out the world enough so that I can organize my memories, Granddad!"

"Ach, and that would do it. You're focusing too hard, Harry. Relax, like you do when you're playing the violin and letting your melody rise to the sky." Nicholas put his wrinkled hands rest on Harry's hunched shoulders and squeezed gently, comfortingly.

Harry sighed. "All right, Granddad, one last try…"

He set his legs crisscross-applesauce and straightened his back, and then let in a cleansing breath.

Nicholas began to hum. It wasn't really a tune, per se, but it didn't just drift along without a head or a tail. The words were that of a wanderer's love for the road, and for seeing new things, and the tune reflected that as it went high and lo, to and fro.

Harry began to croon along, letting his magic drift slowly into the roving melody. His magical focus drifted inward as he retreated into his own mind, letting the low note he had been holding drift into nothingness.

Nicholas jumped back from his grandson as he felt something shifting – Changing – under his hands.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

**January 6****th****, 1989**

Harry's annoyance was influencing his magic. It writhed and twisted in his grasp, trying to release itself into its surroundings in the phenomena called "accidental magic." He redoubled his effort to keep it under control. Even in trying to meditate, the sounds of Perenelle shuffling through tattered scrolls down the hall, Ari snoring in the eating area, and Sirius and Remus talking quietly in the library, were too much to bear.

Then, Nicholas started to hum. The Wanderlust is what Harry called it in his mind, a tune calling over hill, over dale, to find those with the desire, no matter how deeply buried within them, to go out into the world and have Adventures, to bear a sword instead of a walking-stick.

Harry relaxed into the Wanderlust tune, letting his grip on magic loosen. His consciousness traveled deep into his own unconscious, seeing little but experiencing all.

0

A high cliff here, a mighty forest there – birds calling in the morning stillness, wolves calling in the moonlit night; Harry felt it all. Sight seemed less important here, and scent more so – the smell of pines and firs was, somehow, more obvious and wonderful than ever before, and he never knew that even the water and stones in a mountain brook could have a smell. Hearing too – he could sense vibrations as well as noises, from the rocks that tumbled down the cliffs to a great waterfall on a river far away.

Then, Harry felt a disturbance in the taiga around him. Glancing up, he could vaguely make out the moon and stars, but they seemed someway less important than the great trees, the bubbling creeks, and the massive hills that dotted this, a place where time had no meaning at all.

A wolf stood before Harry, a gargantuan black-furred being with stormy grey eyebrows. Its eyes, a vibrant emerald green, gazed into Harry's soul. Its eyes turned to look into Harry's.

_**You will be great among your people, young one, **_a rumbling voice in Harry's mind said, _**But you will need all the help you can get.**_

Harry stuttered, "Who – Who are you, Great One?"

The wolf chuckled. _**I see Nicholas has driven some manners into you. **_It sobered. _**I am Adolfo, son of Avram. I am a spirit that has been sent from the Void to aid you in your life's tasks.**_

Harry, confused, asked, "Tasks?"

_**Never mind that – it's forbidden for you to know what you are meant to be. However, I can give you the ability to protect one's mind against all attacks. I can also give you the use of this form, as both a means to escape when you have no other, and as a way to know yourself. **_

"You – you mean, I'd be an Animagus?"

_**Yes. I normally have no form – one has no need of it in the Void – and I borrowed your Animagus form for this purpose.**_

"Cool,"

Adolfo chuckled. _**Yes, it is. **_He closed the distance between himself and Harry in but a moment and jumped through Harry –

0

Nicholas watched in fascination as Harry's body shifted and morphed. In a blink of an eye, human-Harry wasn't there, but a wolf-Harry, with black fur and dark grey eyebrows. The wolf shook himself and opened his eyes, revealing eyes that glowed with an otherworldly power. His tongue hung out of his muzzle, draping itself over huge fangs.

Nicholas grinned and whooped, saying, "He's done it! He's done it! He's finally gone and done it!"

0

Albus, of course was duly firecalled, and champagne was distributed among the adults. Harry received many a toast that night, and while he drank sparkling grape juice, he did sip some of Sirius' champagne; deeming it "yucky," Harry vowed to never taste the stuff again.

Harry eventually moved over to a mirror and worked on making himself Change only a bit at a time. He worked on everything, from his muzzle to his tail, and decided he liked the wolf-ears and tail on both his forms. He spooked Perenelle a bit when he came up behind her and yelled, "Got ya!" before running off to his room and Ari.

"That boy!" she sighed, as she collapsed into Nicholas' lap.

Nicholas smiled wanly. "I agree; he's a terror when he wants to be. However, when he's being mature – which is most of the time – he's probably less adolescent than your seventh years, Albus."

Albus nodded. "I've been wondering how we're going to manage Harry at Hogwarts. He has a good grip on his magic – almost too good a grip. He could probably do better in private schooling than in an environment with so many children."

"I reached the same conclusion. Is it really fair to Harry to keep him in an environment where he won't learn anything that Remus and I can't teach him – an environment where the students will brand him a know-it-all, and a teacher's pet when they see what Harry can do with – and without – a wand?"

"No, it's not fair to Harry or to his classmates," Remus put in. "What about private study – I know some of the professors will take apprentices. Could we organize a way for Harry to be at Hogwarts, and yet not in the student population – is it even feasible?"

"It's feasible," Albus turned to Remus, "But I think he needs at least a little interaction with his peers – a party, perhaps?"

Perenelle said, "I like that idea – an early 11th birthday party for Harry Potter – and we invite the Muggleborns' and the Light-side's families who have children Harry's age. That seems like a good way to find any of the problems that might arise in Harry's schooling."

They toasted to the newly-deemed Operation Early Birthday Party, and followed Harry's lead to bed.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

**April 17th, 1989**

"Harry?" Perenelle called this way and that. "Harry!"

But it was to no avail. Said grandson did not appear, and Perenelle felt herself growing hoarse from all the shouting.

"Why are you looking for Harry, dearest?" a voice whispered into her ear.

She jumped, accidentally knocking the person behind her in the jaw. She turned on a dime, wand drawn, to see –

"Nicholas! Don't do that!"

The old man rubbed at his jaw. "I really ought to know better by now," he said ruefully. "Sneaking up on you is always painful for me."

"Yes, it is," Perenelle poked him in the chest, "And yes, you should know better by now. We've been married for six centuries, Nicholas. One would think that you would have stopped such childish things as playing, 'guess who.'"

"Ah, but you're quite missing the point, my dear." Nicholas drew her into his arms. "Being childish is its own reward."

"Are you trying to say that immaturity keeps you sane? You've already tried that explanation before, and I didn't care for it then, either."

"No, I'm just saying that my occasional moments of insanity allow me to be sane the rest of the time."

"So what do I do with you in the meantime?"

A pause. "Grin and bear it?"

"As long as the insanity is kept to a minimum, I'm not seeing a problem…"

0

The noise of a dozen skittering claws cut the conversation short. A black blur sped through the hallway, between Perenelle and Nicholas, and crashed into the wall opposite. It shook its canine head with a woozy expression, but then it reared onto its hind legs and Changed.

"You called for me, Granmama?" Harry said, shaking his head as if he had water caught in his ears.

"Yes I did – did you say something about a spirit that helped you in the Animagus transformation?"

"Er – yes…" Harry looked confused. "Is something the matter?"

"No, not at all."

_Granmama's not a very good liar, _Harry thought. _Something's up._

"Did the spirit tell you what it was called?"

"Yes, Adolfo, son of Avram."

"Alright, dear. That's all I wanted to know."

Harry left, shaking his head. _Adults are crazy._

0

Nicholas asked, "What are you worried about?"

"I had never heard of this happening before, a spirit helping a wizard accomplish anything. I wanted to make sure that I hadn't imagined that detail of Harry's transformation."

"Now that you know you didn't?"

"I know that I'm not going crazy."

"That helps."

Perenelle laughed. "Yes, it does." She sobered. "But I'm still worried. I don't think the spirit was harmful to Harry – thank Merlin – but it is still an unknown."

"Just because something's never happened doesn't mean it never will, or that it can't, Perenelle." Nicholas brushed a hand through her hair. "Relax. I think you're worrying at shadows with this. Let it be."

"Worrying at shadows?" Her tone was nothing short of glacial.

Nicholas laughed. "The spirit is an unknown, yes. We know nothing about it – but for one thing: that it helped Harry. If it had wanted to harm Harry, it could have, and would have. It didn't, and so I can only assume that it won't."

"Optimist."

"Pessimist."

"No, I'm the realist. Albus is the designated pessimist for our squabbles, remember?"

"Oh, how silly of me to think otherwise - especially of you."

"Perhaps, perhaps."

0

Remus sat in the library, poring over a scroll so ancient that it was made of papyrus, when a post owl flying in the open window disturbed him from his study. It landed on the arm of his chair and hooted to get his attention.

"Hmmm?" Remus looked up. "Ah." He took the letter from the owl. "Thanks."

The owl hooted again, and flew back out the window.

Remus took a closer look at the letter. Hogwarts' seal stared back at him.

_What could this be?_

0

Sirius lay basking in the sun. The April sunlight felt good on his fur, though if he weren't careful it would make him overheat. Black, after all, absorbed all light, and it would accept heat energy as well.

"Sirius?"

He rolled over, sat up, and Changed to see the worried face of Remus Lupin. "What's up, Moony?"

"This," Remus said, handing him a letter. "Read it."

Sirius scrutinized his friend's face. _What's going on?_

"Dear Mr Lupin," he read aloud, "As our Defense against the Dark Arts Professor has decided to leave after completing the current school year, we are without a teacher for that position. As such, we would be honored if you would accept the post for the coming year. Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

"I mentioned that I was thinking about teaching last time Albus visited." Remus said dejectedly. "I didn't think that he'd move this fast."

Sirius shook his head. _Was he always this daft about believing in himself?_

"Moony, Moony, Moony," Sirius clucked. "You'll make a great teacher!"

"You think so?"

"I know so! Who taught Harry everything he knows about Care of Magical Creatures?"

"I did," Remus said slowly.

"Who taught Harry the Patronus Charm?"

"I did."

"Who helped him to be the next generation of Marauders?"

"Um, I think you and Nicholas had a hand in that, not just me…"

"Not my point."

"Point? You have a point?"

"Of course I have a point! I always have a point!"

"Not very good ones, then, the way this conversation is going…"

"We're off track. You'll be a great teacher, Remus, I know you will. Write back to old Professor McGonagall, now."

"Now?"

"Why not? Have something else you'd rather be doing?"

"No, not really…"

"Get to it, then!" Sirius shoved Remus in the general direction of his rooms. "And don't even think about saying 'no'!" Sirius hollered after him.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 

**July 16****th****, 1989**

"Where do you want the house elves to put the refreshments, Perenelle?"

Perenelle looked up from her clipboard, towards Albus' voice. "The table over by that stained-glass window of St Francis would be nice."

"All right." Albus turned to an elderly house-elf in a blue uniform. "You heard Madam Flamel, Kady?"

"Yes, sir!" it squeaked, bobbing its head and making its ears flap wildly. It popped away with a snap of its fingers.

Perenelle said, "Thanks for coming out here to help, Albus. Having an extra hand is useful."

Albus chuckled, bowing his head to acknowledge her point. "Not to mention that Nicholas needs someone to commiserate with?"

"You two can chitchat when the party is underway, you scamp." She shook a finger at him, as if he were a wayward son rather than the esteemed Albus Dumbledore.

He just laughed. "My, my, you haven't called me scamp since I was eighteen and stupid."

"Are you saying you aren't stupid now?" Perenelle's eyebrows raised. "Like you weren't about to put salt in your lemonade the last time we had lunch?"

"Point taken, milady." He bowed his head again.

She fingered her wand. "What have I told you about calling me 'milady'?"

Albus blanched. "Er, not to do it?"

"And?"

"That you'd hex me the next time I did," he finished meekly.

"That's right," Perenelle said in a singsong voice, smiling like the cat that caught the canary. Albus was only just able to dodge her first spell.

He grinned. "Are we dueling, then?" He sent three jinxes back in quick succession.

Perenelle blocked the jets of light with an ease born of practice. "Are you forgetting who taught you?"

"Nicholas, if I remember correctly."

Perenelle chuckled. "Yes, but I taught Nicholas."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "He told me he taught you."

"That man!" she scowled. "I'll get back at him for that, you'll see."

"You thought he would say otherwise?" Albus snickered. "It's not manly to say your wife taught you to duel."

"Since when do you know anything about manly?" Perenelle rolled her eyes. "You, the champion of unorthodox robes and Muggle candy!"

"I like Muggle candy!" he protested.

"Yes, so do I, but I don't offer people sherbet lemons left and right." She sent a bright purple spell at him, but he dodged before it could hit him.

He returned fire with a yellow beam of energy. "I like sherbet lemons!"

"That's obvious, Albus, just as obvious as that you are losing."

"Losing? I?"

"Yes," she spat, sending a barrage of spells. "Losing."

Albus managed to block and dodge all the spells but one – the Body-Bind. He felt the jinx hit, and he groaned inwardly. _She'll never let me forget this one. _He fell flat onto the cold stone floor of the Hall-on-the-Sea.

Perenelle walked over to him and unfroze him. "Yield?" she said, pointing her wand at his throat.

"Yield." He gulped in a lungful of air.

"Good." She offered him a hand up.

He took it with a wan smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Nicholas walked in, eyeing the dust on Albus' best dress robes and the sweat on Perenelle's brow. "Do I even want to know?"

She glared at him. "Why did you tell Albus that you taught me to duel?"

Nicholas gulped. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. Answer my question."

He sighed, knowing that there was no correct answer. "I didn't think he would have believed me."

Albus snorted.

"Hush, you." Perenelle scolded. "And you!" she rounded on Nicholas.

Both men paled.

Perenelle sucked in a big breath, ready to shout at them until their ears shriveled up, but she was interrupted by a soft voice at the door. "Am I disrupting something?"

All three turned to the towards the door to see a sheepish-looking Remus.

"Yes, Remus?"

"Erm… I was looking for Albus…"

Albus beamed warmly. "All right, lad. What do you need?"

"A little advice."

"Somehow, I think that Nicholas and Perenelle are more qualified in that department…"

"No, no, no." Remus shook his head. "I meant in terms of teaching. Harry, specifically."

"Ah. I thought this might come up." Albus sighed and ran a hand through his beard. "You think he has nothing to learn from you?"

"Well…" Remus blushed. "He did manage to tie me up, lift me ten feet in the air, and slap my face with a dead fish the last time we dueled." He shuddered. "I still don't want to know where he got the fish, or the idea."

Albus chuckled. "You know, there's an old Jewish tradition, in Jewish people from Eastern Europe, of Grand Rabbis and their followers. The Grand Rabbis are very knowledgeable in Jewish Law, and they are most often good and holy souls. But, that is not what is important about these Grand Rabbis."

"What is?"

"That they are considered so holy by their followers, that holiness can be taught with even the smallest of the Grand Rabbi's actions. As one man said of a Grand Rabbi of the 18th century, 'I didn't come to hear him teach. I came to watch him buckle his shoes.'"

Remus lips twitched. "Buckle his shoes?"

"The point is, even if you cannot teach Harry anything about defense, you can teach him how to be a good person. You can be a good role model, a mentor."

"I…" Remus swallowed. "I suppose you're right."

Perenelle interrupted them. "This is all well and good, Albus, but what about the preparations for the party?"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

**July 16th, 1989**

"Harry!" Nicholas ducked into the library. "Oh, where is that boy?"

"Right behind you, Granddad."

Nicholas jumped, and turned around. "Why, you little scamp!"

"Of course you are, but what am I?" Harry giggled.

The old man laughed. "I know I am. But that's not what we're here to talk about."

Harry sobered. "The party?" He tugged at his dress robes, hoping to, somehow, feel as comfortable in them as he did in Muggle clothing.

"Yes." Nicholas' eyebrows flew up into his hair. "And you knew that how?"

He shrugged. "Lucky guess. And you're carrying a guest list."

"Right." Nicholas wasn't sure how to start this conversation. He absently brushed at his beard. "Ahem."

"Just say it, Granddad," Harry sighed. "What do I need to do? Comb through my hair again?"

"No it's – well, not fine, but as good as it ever gets. Sirius says that your father's hair was the same way. No, cub, it's what you need to keep yourself from doing."

Harry looked confused. "What?" He shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand…"

"Remember, these kids aren't as smart as you, or as gifted with magic. Most of them will have to use a wand all their lives, and haven't even touched a wand yet – unless they were playing with their mother's."

"So, I can't use magic? At all?" Harry looked alarmed. "I can't put extra ice in my lemonade when nobody's looking, or –"

"No, nothing of the sort. Their parents will be here, remember, and at least one of them will always have their eye on you."

"No Animagus either, then."

"Definitely not that. Very few people are Animagi, Harry. To have you do it –"

"-would cause an awful lot of trouble."

"Good. You won't Change during the party, then?"

Harry looked right into his eyes. Nicholas could see pain in them. "Not on purpose, Granddad."

Nicholas sighed. "That'll have to do, then."

Harry suddenly hugged Nicholas' legs. "I don't like pretending to be something I'm not, Granddad. Being an Animagus is part of me. I'm as much a wolf as a human."

"Nobody likes pretending, Harry." Nicholas bent down and picked the boy up. "Sometimes we have to, though. It might just be because life would be more complicated if people knew, which it the usual reason people lie like this."

"Isn't that why we're doing it too?"

"Well, yes. Partly. The other reason is that, should all this become known, Voldemort and the Death Eaters will know more about you. And that's not a good thing."

"You can say that again." Harry squirmed. "Put me down now?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Harry."

Harry grinned, and started running down the hall. Mid-stride, he Changed and kept running.

_Probably off to Sirius' quarters, then._

Nicholas sighed.

_I had to say 'during the party.' He is going to prank me with that form of his when all this is over, I just know it._

* * *

Remus looked around at all the little kids in the Hall.

_Here I am, a werewolf, in the midst of a bunch of children. Their parents would kill me if they knew._

"Knut for your thoughts?" A voice asked from behind Remus.

"Not worth it. Hey, Padfoot."

Sirius chuckled. "Hey, yourself. You're glum. Come on now, it's a birthday party."

"It's Harry's birthday party, Sirius. Children's birthday parties are always hectic for the adults, almost by definition. Add Harry, the most unpredictable kid I've ever known, into this, and…" Remus sighed. "We must be begging for an explosion."

"Hopefully, that won't happen." Sirius put a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Come on. It's a party."

"You had better not have spiked the punch, Paddy."

"You wound me!" Sirius grinned. "It is a children's party."

Remus groaned. "What did you do?"

"I may or may not have put peeled grapes in the cherry punch."

"What?"

"Am I the only one to have noticed that peeled grapes look like eyeballs?"

"Not everyone is so weird as you."

Sirius snorted. "Just humor me, and come out of the corner, all right, Moony?"

"All right."

* * *

Harry sat at the head of a huge table in the largest room of the Hall-on-the-Sea, feeling quite uncomfortable.

_Why did I ever think that I was going to look forward to this?_

A rather stout boy was shaking his hand enthusiastically. "Ernie Macmillan," he said, looking like his grin was going to split is face in half. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr Potter."

Harry tried to smile. "Call me Harry, please."

"Ernie, then. So, Harry, what is it you do around here?"

_Finally, a question that's not about Voldemort or my scar. I've had quite enough of _those_ chats today. I might actually be able to have a conversation with… Ernie._

"Well, I read a lot. And there are a lot of walking trails here; some mornings I just want to stare at the sea."

_I can't exactly tell him about wrestling with Padfoot and Leonardo and Moony on full moons. No Animagus-talk at all._

"That's it?"

"Well, I play my violin – "

"You play the violin?" Ernie asked, incredulous.

Harry blinked. "Well, I did say so. And I don't lie."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that, really," he stammered, "it's just –" Ernie suddenly stopped talking.

"What is it, Ernie?"

"I was just… I dunno, Harry… expecting something more heroic."

_Well, I can't exactly tell him about the time I nearly blew up the potions lab. Or the time Granmama surprised me when I was dueling with Albus._

"Like what, Quidditch?"

"Yeah, like Quidditch!" Ernie's face lit up. "D'you have a favorite team? Or ride a broom?"

"No team, but I've been to a few matches. I've got a boom, and I think I'm a capable flier."

_Do wizard boys talk of anything _but_ Quidditch? It's better than a Voldemort conversation, but really – there's got to be an end to the subject matter, here._

* * *

Meanwhile, two wizard boys, anticipating their first year at Hogwarts, were making mischief.

"Where did you find _that_?" one asked, eyeing the firework in the other's hand cautiously.

"In someone-or-other's room," he grinned. "Put it in the punch?"

"Nah, someone's pranked that already."

"Well, what to do with this, then?"

* * *

_If I thought the Wizarding kids were bad, the adults are far worse._

"I just can't believe I'm meeting the famous Harry Potter," the elderly witch said, catching Harry as he tried to make his way to the punch bowl. The woman – she had to be mad, wearing a hat like that – was accompanied by a slightly chubby, embarrassed-looking boy. "Neville, say hello."

Harry decided to take pity on the poor fellow – Neville – sparing him some stuttering. "Well met, Neville."

"Th-thank you," Neville stammered.

"No thanks needed," Harry smiled, a genuine smile. "Just being here is enough."

_For all his stumbling and clumsiness, I can see a good heart in Neville. I think Sirius once told me about him – Longbottom, Neville, lives with his grandmother. Poor chap._

Even finding one person who could yet be a good friend here made Harry ecstatic. Had he let his magic act as it wanted to, he would have been floating a few feet in the air. But, Harry was consciously holding back, keeping his power in a near-stranglehold.

Suddenly, a loud bang shook Harry from his reverie.

_What the –_

His power erupted around him in a ball of fire –

He felt the Change ripping through him –

The people around him screamed –

And there wolf-Harry stood.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

**July 16th, 1989**

All the adults had their wand out, spooked. Nicolas and Perenelle looked the least alarmed – _probably just their experience with assorted loud bangs. _

Harry had transformed – _the noise would have frightened him more than anyone, save Sirius – _and said godfather and werewolf stood beside the wolf cub.

Albus scanned the room with a practiced eye for threats. He came up with nothing, but for – _aha._

He lifted the tablecloth under the food tables to find two small redheaded boys. Two familiar redheaded boys. "Misters Weasley," he said, "Am I to assume that you had something to do with the excitement?"

They blinked.

_That's an affirmative, then._

"What happened to Harry?" a small voice said.

"It must have been a Transfiguring Cracker," Remus answered. "I can turn him back, no worries."

_I haven't heard of those. I would bet Remus is lying. Justifiably, admittedly, but still…_

Albus watched as Remus waved his wand slowly. Wolf-Harry watched the movement carefully, and transformed back at the appropriate moment.

_Brilliant. How straightforward it is to keep this secret, then – without even a single Obliviate. Misdirection and careful misinformation…_

Harry's hair was mussed, his glasses were askew, and – if Albus didn't know any better – his mouth was trying to twitch into a growl. He looked into Albus' eyes, and Albus could see the raw rage of a wild animal disturbed in Harry's mind.

Harry's bright green eyes seemed to glow as turned to the Weasley twins. They winced at his glare.

"I would _not_ recommend doing that again," Harry said quietly. "Next time it might not end so well for you."

The twins squirmed. Harry didn't blink; he just stood, and stared at them with a ferocity not normally seen in humans.

"Sorry," one of them squeaked.

The other nodded fervently. "We won't be pranking you again, Mister Potter, sir!"

"See that you do." Harry turned around and walked towards the punch bowl. He was still thirsty, after all…

***0***

The party returned to almost its level of cheer as before, except for the curious glances at Harry from the indiscreet and the glares at the Weasley Twins from just about everyone.

Remus stood next to Harry for the rest of the party. Harry gave him a few questioning looks, but otherwise accepted his presence.

_Having an overprotective godfather right next to me keeps the less brave away. I can like that. At least Macmillan isn't trying to talk with me anymore._

"Harry?"

He looked up into Nicholas' worried eyes. "Yes, Granddad?"

Nicholas created a subtle silencing charm around them. "We are going to need to work with your Animagus skills. Transforming at every alarming thing isn't going to work."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "All due respect, Nicholas, but I think Harry did the right thing. Transforming when something disturbs the peace is better than lashing out with magic."

"Granddad, do you really believe that I Changed on _purpose_?"

"No." Nicholas sighed. "Remus, your quick thinking saved the day."

"Maybe. I did hear a few suspicious parents whispering, though. Some aren't going to be convinced that easily – Molly Weasley, for one."

Nicholas winced. "No, she won't even listen to Albus."

"Agnes Longbottom, too – she didn't like the happenings or the explanation."

A shrug. "We'll just have to deal with it when it comes." A thought. "Where did the twins get the firecracker?"

Remus sighed. "Probably from my room, or Sirius'. Both of us tend to leave prank items on our beds…"

***0***

"And to think that Lupin couldn't come up with anything more convincing than 'Transfiguring Cracker'! My cousin Ellard – bless him – is a developer of tricks for Zonko's. From what he tells me, there's not possibility of those sorts of things in the market for the moment."

"There is now, Mrs Longbottom," Molly Weasley said. "I wouldn't put it past my twins to make up something like that, the moment they learn the charm for transfiguration. They're going to be scrubbing the floor for weeks to make up for this embarrassment, though."

The two women – one much younger than the other – stood off in a corner, kept company only by each other and Fred and George, who had decided staying out of the crowd was the better part of valor.

"What else, other than a cracker or a trick, could it have been?"

"My first thought was an Animagus transformation, but Harry's much too young for all that. Why, he doesn't even have a wand yet – he's only nine!"

"I don't think any of the adults transfigured him, either. Whatever my differences with Albus, I don't think he would do that, or allow any other adult in the room to, even to save him from an explosion. He would have found a better way."

A sigh. "It just doesn't make any sense."

***0***

Remus stood off in a corner – not the same one as Mrs Longbottom and Molly Weasley, though, of course.

_Though I might as well be. Listening in on their conversation, Lupin? Quite the spy, aren't we? No, no, that's Severus Snape…_

Harry was standing by the punch table again, not seeming to care about the peeled grapes in his cherry drink. To Remus' practiced godfatherly eye, he looked distinctly bored. The boy talking to him – talking _at_ him – was a thin boy named Finch-Fletchly.

_Poor Harry. Too many kids all at once – at not one intelligent enough to bring up a stimulating topic of conversation. _

All of the kids were magic-raised, too; not a single Muggle-born, Remus rued.

_Maybe next year._

Catching the jaded glint in Harry's eyes, though, he amended his thoughts.

_Or not._

***0***

Nicholas slept on his side in two piece pajamas.

Now, normally this would not be something for anyone to be grateful – or ungrateful, depending on your point of view – for. But this morning – just after sunrise, the day after the party – was not an ordinary morning.

Nicholas' ordinary mornings did not begin with cold, wet wolf nose in his lower back.

His screeches could be heard on the cliffs.

But, he reflected, it was all his fault. He knew that Harry would want to prank someone after all the stimulation yesterday. Add in the Animagus mayhem, and stir, to create a recipe for early morning pain.


	22. Chapter 22

July 20th, 1989

Harry was in the library reading when he heard the door creak open. He inhaled, and smelled his godfather's characteristic scent of animal musk, clean dirt, and pine sap.

"Are you in here, Harry?"

"Yes."

Sirius followed his voice. He couldn't well have just spotted him, Harry reflected. Harry had secreted himself behind three tall stacks of heavy, leather-bound books. If he had rearranged them, he might have made a protective igloo, if he were so inclined.

Sirius' face popped into Harry's vision over the stacks of books. "What's all this, Harry?"

"Research."

"I can tell. May I ask on what?"

Harry carefully marked his chosen volume and closed it. "Can I ask you a question first?"

"You just did."

Harry glared.

Sirius grinned and amended, "But yes, you can ask something pertinent."

That made Harry chuckle, but he sobered, and hesitated. "I'm…" he sucked in a deep breath. "I'm not sure where to begin."

"The beginning is always a good place to start."

Harry glared again.

"All right, all right, I'll shut up, cub. You know it's part of my godfatherly duties to tease you within an inch of your life."

"And an able job you do of it too." Harry's lips twitched with amusement. "I was remembering that trip to Diagon Alley when I was really little, when I visited all the vaults. I wondered why I have all this heritage and all this power. I know how powerful I am, Padfoot, I know what kind of potential I have and I know how much I can do. But that seems like a destiny I can't really live up to." He took a deep breath again, this time his voice beginning to tremble. "So I have a question: Given my individual power, intelligence, and drive, what is the meaning of the families to whom I am connected – why does it matter whose heir I am and whose cousin and which ancestor did what when?"

Sirius walked around the books, and sat down at a chair behind Harry. He sat there thinking for a few moments. "Let me see if I have this right," he said. "You're worried about the destiny you have and the hereditary burden you bear. You're worried you won't measure up. But even worse, you're wondering why you really ought to know about the burden at all, when it helps you only a little and will get you into far more trouble than it's worth."

Harry nodded glumly. "That's why I'm in here reading. All these books are about the families – Blacks, Potters, Flamels, and so on. All of them, as far back as they go."

"If any library would have that information, Nicholas' and Perenelle's would."

"They've had six centuries to collect books, and I think they've been bibliophiles since the invention of movable type in the 15th century."

Sirius shook his head. "Harry, sometimes you scare me. How smart is one kid allowed to be?"

"Didn't Moony tell me I've always been precocious?"

"There you go again."

Harry stuck his tongue out. "Well?"

"What you're looking at, in terms of family history, is just history, Harry. A bunch of long-dead people who may have done something of note and who are now notable only for moldering away in the ground. But your family is important, not because of who they are but because of who _you_ are. They don't, or shouldn't, tell you your destiny."

Harry looked confused. Sirius kept talking.

"If you know who your family is, cub, you know who you are. That gives you an immeasurable advantage. Imagine if you came to Hogwarts not knowing about any of this. Imagine how lost you would be, to not know who you were connected to, by an overarching family story."

"But isn't that story going to tell me not only _who_ I am but _what_ I am?"

"Nobody can tell you who you are but you." Sirius reached over to Harry and grabbed his shoulder gently. "Harry, listen to me on this. There will come a time when it will be vital to know exactly who you are. When that time comes, you have got to be that Harry, and you need to accept who you are, and never apologize for it."

Harry was feeling mutinous, and he knew it showed on his face. Sirius kept talking.

"Knowing who your ancestors were tells you where you came from. You either like the story which your ancestors told about themselves and their family, or you don't, and then you know to change it. But you have to know where you come from first."

"And if it is a burden?" Harry's eyes flashed. "And if you'd rather be someone else some days, someone without fame, without history, without gifts, without _anything_, so that you don't have to feel like you're wearing a mask around people your own age?"

Sirius was stunned. "Harry…"

"Don't _Harry_ me. That birthday party told me at least one thing: I will not have, and do not have, any equals. Ever. No one at that party even close to my own age matched me." Suddenly Harry felt stretched, tired, hollowed-out – even old. "I felt lonely for the first time in my life, Sirius, surrounded by the most people I've ever seen in one place."

Sirius hugged Harry before the latter could move away. "I had hoped you'd be older before you knew what that isolation felt like, cub." He let go and leaned back in his chair. "You're wrong, though, logically. The birthday party should tell you this: that you have to look harder, work harder, search harder, to relieve that isolation than people without your gifts ever will."

Harry chuckled. "I'll have to think about it, Sirius." He grinned wickedly. "For now, let's go outside and run along the cliffs, as wolf and dog."

"It's blazing hot out there."

"I don't care if it's the surface of Mercury out there. I've been in here all day, and I need to move space to change my mental luck."

Sirius laughed. "All right."

"Race you to the cliffs!"

Harry was gone in a flash and the noise of ruffled papers. Sirius shook his head. "What are we going to do with that kid?"

A/N: This story is, I regret to say, still dead. My files are still lost, and I have no plans of updating it ever again. That said, this came to me and it wanted to be written. I hope you enjoyed it!


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